


What To Expect When You're Spawning

by AngeliaDark



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Actually not an asshole Valentino, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Demon Pregnancy, Established Relationship, M/M, Mpreg, Parenthood, Sappy parents, Sort Of, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vomiting, Weird Biology, Weird pregnancy cravings, birthing scene, eldritch bullshit, good support system, smut to angst to fluff, with some humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:08:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22303132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeliaDark/pseuds/AngeliaDark
Summary: Alastor should have known that trying something new would only lead to trouble.  Now Angel Dust is pregnant, the Hotel has to be baby-proofed, and Alastor has to learn to be a good father, and better partner.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 349
Kudos: 1619





	1. This Is Why Even In Hell, Practice Safe Sex (Even When Eldritch Bullshit Is Involved)

"So lemme get this straight."

Angel Dust sat on the edge of his bed, top hands pressed together and held up to his mouth as he stared at Alastor, who was looking more uncomfortable than the spider had ever seen him. Considering what he'd just been told, it wasn't all that surprising, but Angel just wanted to make sure he had ALL of this set out neatly.

"You have some freaky Lovecraft bullshit goin' on in your body."

"...in less favorable terms, yes."

"...that because of your big bad Radio Demon power you're kinda at th' mercy of, but you keep it under yer hat because of obvious image reasons."

"Thank you for your understanding."

"Aaaaand you want my help...satisfyin' it this time."

"If you please. And for the love of all that is profane, do not make your..." Alastor waved his hand slightly. "...customary commentary on it. It's bad enough I'm asking for help -"

"Gee, thanks."

" -BUT it's because I'm trusting you with this that I'm asking to begin with."

Angel let his shoulders drop, nodding; he knew more than anyone about the importance of trust when it came down to sexual affairs. It was a LOOOOOOOONG road taken to get where he currently was with Alastor, sexual relationship considering. Starting from the bottom with bare hand-holding, going through a long checklist of dos and don'ts and maybes, and leading up to actual sex.

The most vanilla sex Angel had ever had in his life or afterlife, bar none. 

But godDAMN was Alastor hot mid-coitus and figuring himself out with Angel's body. It at least made each time after that much better.

And now, just two weeks after he's gotten Alastor to consider TRYING 69, Alastor was telling him that there would be tentacles involved. 

Fan-freaking tastic.

Not that he was complaining, but it was something he would have liked to hear about sooner so that he could possibly clear his schedule. He could still see where Alastor was coming from, though. He'd been in the sex business for seventy-plus years now and he'd dealt with just about everything.

Eldritch bullshit? Completely new. Angel needed at least a day's recovery time for anything 'new' that might put him out of commission for awhile.

"If you don't want to, it's fine," Alastor said, sounding as nonchalant as possible. "I've dealt with it privately myself for decades now. And I do understand that you have your own...schedule to keep. Work considering."

Well be that as it may, passing up a chance to get really freaky with Alastor was simply out of the question.

"You just name th' time an' place, Smiles," Angel said, giving Alastor a grin. "Pretty sure you don't wanna do this here, right?"

Alastor nodded. "The Radio Tower," he said. "Tonight."

"ToNIGHT?" Angel yelped. "Seriously!? Why so soon?"

"Dear, I've been keeping a rein on this particular nuisance for two days, debating whether or not to involve you," Alastor replied with a blank look. 

"Yeah, but I can't just LEAVE, don't I hafta like check out with Charlie or -"

"I've already taken care of it. So is this a yes?"

 _Rule 1, Express Clear and Concise Consent_. One of the Big Five that really cemented Alastor's decision to start a physical relationship with Angel. Even after all these months it held true.

Angel nodded. "It's a yes."

He should have expected a two-day leashing of some freaknasty eldritch heat bullshit would have some strain, but Angel STILL hated it when Alastor used those damn void gates to teleport them somewhere. He NEVER got the hang of getting his balance and footing before crashing on his ass on the other side.

Angel huffed, looking up expecting to see Alastor's ever-present amusement at failing yet another void trip, but instead saw that Alastor's red eyes had gone completely black, making the wide, sharp smile on the demon's face look that much more terrifying. "...hey, Al? You okay?"

 **"NĘV͝ER ̴BET̷T̢ER҉,̸ ̴M̵Y D̛EAR̶!҉"** Alastor replied, his voice distorted with the sound of bad radio reception and something akin to a scream from deep in a dark pit. That assessment wasn't too far from the truth, as Angel took a quick look around and saw that he was in some near-empty chamber of some sorts, surrounded by concrete and steel.

And were those bloodstains and claw marks on the wall?

 _'This is how I REALLY die,'_ Angel thought, feeling his stomach drop. _'Torn to pieces being fucked to death by something that ain't even really a demon.'_ He really should have probably asked someone to feed Fat Nuggets after his demise, left a note, something...

A hand reaching out for him had him reflexively flinch back, clenching his eyes shut for whatever it was that was coming.

**"Ange҉l ̛d͜e͝a̧r?͝"**

The more familiar overtone of Alastor's voice had Angel peek his eyes open, seeing the same blacked-out eyes, but the smile was almost gone and brows were furrowed slightly. 

Just as reflexively, Angel gave Alastor a smile of his own, one he usually reserved for the cameras. "I really gotta work on my landings here, huh?" he asked, giving himself a mental Oscar for leaving his voice void of any shaking or trepidation as he stood, brushing himself off. "So, let's see what we're workin' with, huh?"

 **"S̸t̶o̡p̨.̡"** Alastor shook his head, stepping back, hands raised palm-out to show that they were empty and unarmed. His head twitched, visibly trying to reel something back by sheer willpower before the light of his irises reappeared in his eyes. "This...isn't going to work. It was a dangerous thing to even consider last moment like this -"

"Al, it's fine! I'M fine!" Angel smiled wider as though proving his point. "So this is a little new, big deal -"

"Flinching is as serious as a safeword," Alastor cut in. "I won't subject you to something you don't want."

Angel took a breath before letting it out, rubbing his arm a little. "...Al, it's not that I don't wanna. I'm just...a little iffy 'bout where we are and...y'know..." He gave the wall a dubious look again. "...exactly how much of me I'm leavin' behind in here. You know I got no issue with hardcore shit, I just kinda wanna know...more."

Alastor's smile was tight as he appeared to give the room a brief look of his own, a slight wince in his eyes being any indication of apology for his lack of foresight. "This is merely a soundproof room below my tower. Yes, I use it for some of my broadcasts, but it's also where I ALWAYS go for this particular experience. It's safe."

Angel nodded. "Okay," he said. "I know some shit might get muddled with all this...stuff." He wiggled his fingers as though to symbolize what was to happen. "So I just gotta know...how lucid are you gonna be? Can you recognize what I'm sayin' when I say it?" His expression went extra serious. "Can you put me back together if I'm like...y'know." He gesticulated to the general area of some blood stains. Alastor looked over the room as though realizing just how ominous it was.

"Ah. Yes, I can still understand when you speak. And we've drilled our safewords enough that they're ingrained. And should anything happen, I CAN mend you good as new." His head jerked with a sharp tic for a moment. "...but I need to ask again...is this a yes?"

Angel nodded. "It's a 'yes', Al," he said. "But anything else y'need to tell me 'bout all this?"

"...it will take some time vomit out the residue you'll have, but just let it happen."

"Wait, wha -" Angel yelped when the red lights went out in Alastor's eyes and thick tendrils began creeping over his body from the shadows. "Oh boy, oh WOW..."

Alastor's smile went full watt again, and Angel felt more tendrils curl around his legs and under his clothes, carelessly ripping them at the seams. Just from the sound of radio static and unearthly shaking and groaning from the dark depths of the shadows, Angel knew that he was in for one hell of a ride.

* * *

Angel wasn't sure how long or how many days he'd been down under the Radio Tower. It was one big blur of eldritch tentacles filling every orifice he had, practically feeling his insides being rearranged as Alastor at first just watched the extensions of his own power fuck him, and then used them as restraints as he fucked Angel himself.

He wasn't even sure if half of what he remembered was real or hallucination. At one point he swore he saw Alastor's body being split open from throat to groin and a huge tooth-filled mouth form from the gap that almost devoured him. 

But GOD if that was real, he'd want to see it again at some point while completely lucid.

Angel didn't even know when he actually came back to full faculties and consciousness until he found himself TOO lucid to really handle heaving up gushing mouthfuls of some black liquid into a toilet. He could only vaguely recall Alastor saying it was normal to happen, but that didn't make it any less disgusting.

Still, it had to say something about HIMSELF when black eldritch goo the consistency of hot tar didn't even crack the top three disgusting things he'd vomited up after sex. Thank GOD Alastor didn't say anything about it, Angel already felt like he'd been dressed like a deer, stuffed like a turkey, frozen, and then reheated twice over in a dirty microwave. 

He almost fell asleep twice while he puked, trying not to get it everywhere, until he passed out for real and woke up again in an unfamiliar bed. It was clean and he wasn't suffering from a hangover or a drug crash, which felt foreign enough to him to try to get up and investigate before he felt an arm around him tighten.

"Quit movin'," said an unfamiliar voice, making him tense and chance a look over his shoulder only to see Alastor lying next to him. He tried to put Radio Demon + southern drawl together before the mental strain was too bothersome to keep up and decided to not look this gift horse in the mouth. Angel settled back down again, looking down at the grey-toned arm circling his waist with a soft smile before closing his eyes and dozing off again.

* * *

"So...HOW much longer can I be expected t' keep pukin', because it's been over a WEEK, Al."

Angel walked out of the bathroom, grimacing at the sourness in his mouth as he gave Alastor a somewhat annoyed look. Alastor looked up from his book with a twinge of uncertainty, something that didn't bode well for Angel.

"To be fair, I've only had my own experiences," Alastor replied. "A day or two after recovery to clean out, for the most part."

"Yeah, well..." Angel sighed, rubbing his temples. "Pretty sure you never fucked yerself as hard as I got it."

Alastor's lips pursed slightly in distaste. "I did not 'fuck' myself," he muttered, avoiding Angel's 'bitch please' look. "...I was simply my own vessel for -"

"You fucked yerself, got it." Angel went quiet for a moment to make sure his nausea was settled before relaxing and taking out his phone, looking over messages to see what he needed to reply to right away or save for later. "Fuck, I need a drink, you got any Dramamine in here?"

"...no. And if you're feeling this bad, you don't need a drink anyway."

Angel flipped him off and texted Valentino back about a work meeting in the morning. As though knowing what it was, Alastor put his book down with a stern look. "And you shouldn't be going back to work so soon either. It's nothing against your vanity, but you don't look one-hundred percent still."

"Nothin' ten minutes with my makeup kit won't fix," Angel replied. "I ain't thrilled either, but I can prolly negotiate some body shots for th' next couple sessions. Or he'll be in a great mood an' give me th' rest of th' week off."

"I can talk to him if you want."

Angel sighed, closing his eyes for a moment to collect himself, feeling his thinned patience fray slightly. "...no."

"...Angel -"

" _No_." 

Angel returned to his texting, his jaw tight. Alastor set his book aside, brow furrowing. "...Angel, I do not know exactly how long this might last for someone else. If you're still ill, I would rather you stay at the Hotel until you're better."

"'m not sick, I'm processing yer tentacle spunk."

Alastor grimaced at the description. "...still." He sighed. "Alright. Go back to work. But call if you need a quick route home."

Angel relaxed a little, his annoyance dropping. "...thanks, Al." He gave Alastor a small smile.

Then rushed to the bathroom again.

Romance wasn't dead in Hell, who said otherwise?

* * *

Angel Dust was still feeling like absolute shit when he made his way up to Valentino's office, but he kept his smile on and walk dialed up to 11 on sexy with practiced ease. 

Just keep being sexy, he told himself. Play it up, get Val in a good mood, get some easy work in.

Just keep it together. 

He walked into the office, smiling. “Sorry for th’ wait, Daddy,” he preened, noting that Valentino was sitting back with his phone instead of upright and pacing. A good thing.

“Angelcakes, about time,” Val said, crooking a finger for Angel to join him on the couch. “You were cutting it close asking for so much time off short notice.”

Angel slid on the couch slowly, more for not setting off his nausea than trying to be sexy. “It was an emergency, swear it,” he assuaged. Val arched a brow with a smirk like he barely believed a word, using his second set of hands to pour out two glasses of  rosé. 

“I’ll let it slide this time, sweet thing,” he said, handing one over. “But you better believe you’ve got some make-up work ahead of ya now.”

_ ‘Oh goodie,’ _ Angel thought with a mental wince, raising the glass to his mouth and almost cringing at the scent of alcohol that made his stomach turn. He pushed on, taking a sip and swallowing, intending on nursing this one glass for a full hour if need be, when the one sip he took to his insides like an effervescent to water in an instant.

Whatever Valentino had intended to tell Angel about his upcoming work schedule was thrown aside about as forcefully as the arm around Angel’s shoulders as the spider shot up out of the seat and bolted for the bathroom, the sound of violent vomiting echoing through the office. When it didn’t stop after the first wave, Valentino stood and went into the bathroom to check for himself, almost reeling back when he saw that Angel Dust was vomiting pitch black liquid that most definitely did not smell like what vomit normally should. Instead, he smelled literal death, the kind that he DIDN’T care to associate with.

Angel heaved again, retching up another mouthful before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed on the bathroom floor unconscious.


	2. Finding Out Can Be a Shock, Just Put a Pillow Under His Head

Husk was taking a smoke break outside when the Hotel phone rang, so Charlie was the one to pick it up and greet, "Happy Hotel front desk, this is Charlie speaking!"

" _This is Flavio, I drive chauffeur in one of Valentino's cars_ ," the demon on the other line said. " _I need someone to meet out front the Hotel to get Angel Dust out of the car_."

Charlie sat up straight. "What? Is he okay? What happened?!"

" _I don't know, I get orders, I obey them. My job is to drive, not touch the merchandise, so I contractually CAN'T get him out of the damn car. You got someone to get him, or not?_ "

"I'll be out there," Charlie said firmly, jotting down a note to herself to call Valentino for details if Angel Dust was too out of it to answer her.

" _Great_." 

Click

Charlie put the phone down and hurried out to the front, hands wringing anxiously in front of her as she waited for about ten minutes before a sleek car pulled up. The driver's window rolled down and a Demon nodded to behind him.

"Door's unlocked," he said, and Charlie hurriedly pulled the door open and eased a semiconscious Angel Dust out, thanking the chauffeur as she shut the car door and half-carried the spider away so the car could drive off.

"Angel, are you okay?" she demanded, noting Angel's ill-exhausted expression and glassy eyes. The way he was trembling in her hold made her immediately think of perhaps an overdose of some sort, but Angel had only been gone a couple hours at BEST. And besides, he'd been trying to stay clean of any hard stuff anyway and doing a great job. 

For him to be actively sent HOME from work, it had to have been something worse. 

"Alastor!" she called into the Hotel as soon as she was past the threshold. "We have an issue here!"

Alastor appeared on cue, a sharp spike of feedback sound piercing the air when he saw Angel Dust unconscious. "What happened?" he demanded without TRYING to be demanding; he still had his unflappable reputation to keep, of course.

"I don't know," Charlie replied, easing Angel onto a couch in the lobby. "I got a call about ten minutes ago from one of Valentino's chauffeurs saying he was bringing Angel back from work and needed someone to get him out of the car. I don't know anything beyond that!"

Alastor's smile was tight as he looked over for any sign of drug use or poisoning, and found absolutely none. Regardless, for Valentino to have sent Angel home rather than keeping him somewhere in the Studio to wait it out was...concerning. 

“I’ll take it from here,” he announced, snapping his fingers to displace Angel Dust right to his bedroom before walking off to his office, making a mental link with his power to Valentino’s personal phone number and waiting for it to ring.

“ _Who the hell is this?_ ” came Valentino’s irritated voice.

“Apologies for not using the regular phone, but I’m a bit short on time,” Alastor answered, figuring that his voice alone would be enough introduction. “I was merely calling to ask why Angel Dust was sent home prematurely without any real explanation.”

Valentino let out a string of muffled curses on the other end, and Alastor caught ‘useless fucking drivers’ and ‘can’t anyone do anything right today’. “ _Because I don’t know what the fuck he’s sick with but I’m not having my entire studio out of commission!” he finally snapped back. “You lot figure out why he’s puking black shit everywhere and make sure he’s CLEAN before you send him back!_ ”

Alastor’s jaw tightened; he TOLD Angel to call him if he wasn’t well. “I see,” he replied. “Thank you, we will make sure he gets the care he needs and keep you updated on his progress.”

Valentino groused out an affirmative before hanging up, leaving Alastor to sit back and stare at his microphone with the closest semblance of a frown that he could muster. 

Perhaps he should have experimented some with lesser demons in his decades here in having a partner during that low call time before subjecting Angel Dust to it, he thought as a massive hindsight. After all, he honestly didn’t know what eldritch power did to someone not bound to it, and Alastor recalled enough to know that Angel had all but been used as a puppet at the most intense of it all. And as lewd as it sounded, perhaps when Angel told him ‘his insides were rearranged’, perhaps the spider was being literal instead of making an innuendo.

It was almost two weeks after the fact, and despite being healed to the best of Alastor’s ability, Angel still looked ill, his coloring saturated, eyes exhausted, and he was STILL vomiting. He could barely remember the last time Angel even ate anything substantial enough to have it be called a meal.

For now, he needed to make sure Angel Dust wasn’t actively deteriorating from the inside out.

He stepped into a shadow and out of another in Angel’s room, seeing the spider having reached for a pillow to cuddle tightly to him in his sleep. Truly Angel did look very ill still, which didn’t bode well for Alastor’s worry at all. Alastor reached out, running his fingers through Angel’s hair lightly and saw the other demon relax somewhat, soothed by his presence.

All well and good, but it didn’t answer any of Alastor’s questions or assuage any worries. 

Charlie calling for him again had him reluctantly leave the spider’s side and reappear by Charlie’s. “What is it?” he asked.

“I’m running to get someone to look at Angel,” Charlie said, grabbing a jacket. “We can trust her, she’s actually done some work in my family as far as wellness checks go. With Angel being under the weather for weeks now and getting worse…” She trailed off, worry clouding her eyes. 

Alastor nodded with a mental sigh; he didn’t want outsiders poking around his business but with even himself at a loss, he was willing to make an acception to this. “Very well,” he said. “Should I have Niffty prepare refreshments?”

“Oh, no, she prefers to remain impersonal. In and out with diagnosis, that’s how she runs things.” She sighed. “If Angel wakes up before she gets here, make sure he’s hydrated.”

“Will do.” Alastor watched her leave before going back upstairs to watch over Angel Dust while he waited. 

* * *

As iffy as Alastor was about someone else seeing Angel, he found himself almost checking the time wondering when Charlie would return with this medic. At last the Hotel doors opened and no-nonsense steps resounded up the stairs and down the halls before Angel’s door was opened and a smallish no-nonsense-looking elderly goat demon stepped in, eyes trained on Angel Dust immediately.

“Alright, out,” she ordered Alastor, pointing to the door. 

Alastor arched a brow. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not here to see you, so out.” She didn’t even look at him as she unfolded Angel Dust from around the pillow he was holding. Alastor’s protest was halted by Charlie, who caught his eye and just motioned for him to come out of the room. He did so with reluctance, shutting the door behind him.

“It’s just how she is,” Charlie said softly. “Especially when her patient is unconscious. If we’re not the ones sick or in charge, it’s confidential.”

Alastor made a noncommittal sound, hands tightening around his microphone. “I’m assuming as the proprietor of the Hotel, YOU fall under ‘in charge’?” he asked. 

“I guess so. But still, depending on what it is, she’ll either let me know, or wake Angel up to let him know.”

“Seems a waste of time.”

Charlie nibbled her lip, looking at him with quiet concern. He averted his eyes, knowing that SHE knew he and Angel Dust were ‘involved’ with one another, but as of now nothing about that had been spoken, and he preferred it to remain that way. He was feeling a small drip of guilt at her knowing for a fact that he was possibly to blame, considering the subtle conversation he had with her in telling her he would need Angel’s ‘company’ for a few days.

Truly, the worst part about having business partners; personal business never really remained personal.

It seemed like hardly five minutes passed before the door opened again and the goat demon walked out, looking equal parts irritated and knowing, ESPECIALLY in Alastor’s direction.

“Simple enough,” she stated, adjusting a pair of bifocals. “He’s pregnant.”

Dead silence. Oh, it had been quite some time since Alastor hadn’t even heard the distant static of his own aura in his ears. No, this was actual silence. Charlie’s jaw dropped, gaping for the longest time before pointing to the room. “A...are you sure?” was all she could get out, too dumbfounded to even be cowed by the other demon’s glare.

“Of course I’m sure, I was the one who told your mother about you,” she huffed. “I know a pregnancy when I see it. And feel it. And sense the little unholy ball of spawn.”

“Bu...but WAIT,” Charlie said, holding out her hands as though to put the brakes on the crazy train she was on. “Angel’s a MALE. And might be T-M-I, but he’s had nude binges enough that I KNOW he doesn’t have a -”

“Yes, well, tell that to abominable manifestations of darkness and madness who are able to do what they have to in order to breed,” the goat demon replied dryly. “And since the only other one able to utilize such monstrosities besides the von Eldritch’s, is THAT one -” She jerked her head to Alastor. “-I’m going to assume he’s the father.”

Charlie looked up at Alastor, seeing the man absolutely frozen in place like a literal deer in the headlights, not even the dull buzz of static emanating from him as it normally did. She hesitantly reached out to touch his shoulder. “...Al?” she asked, her fingertips barely touching his jacket before he crumpled to the floor like a puppet with strings cut. “Omigosh, Al!”

The goat demon gave the useless pile of deer on the floor an unimpressed look. “Just put a pillow under his head until he comes do,” she said, looking quite annoyed with the whole thing. “And since both the parents are out of it, can I count on YOU, at least, to tell these two idiots what they need to know and what options they have?”

Charlie was trying to ease one her folded-up jacket under Alastor’s head without setting the Radio Demon off on a Five-Foot-Rule enforcement methods. No one needed to lose an eye again. She looked up, swallowing down her own panic at the knowledge that this had to be ten times worse for Alastor and later Angel when he woke up. 

“...okay,” she said, nodding. 

* * *

Well. Charlie learned a lot more about eldritch monstrosity breeding practices than she ever wanted to in her life; thank Satan she and her ex were able to copulate the old-fashioned way instead of...THAT.

At some point, Alastor regained consciousness but remained on the floor as dignified as possible, a slight crackle of static in his aura every so often as the goat demon explained.

"When the pure form of those ancient bastards want to breed, they'll FIND a way to breed," she said. "Including but not limited to making a suitable incubation organ if the host doesn't already have one."

Charlie massaged her temple. "...so it made a womb," she said, trying oh-so hard NOT to picture it. 

"Precisely. Now, considering this one here has, I'm assuming, never had a partner in this, that power couldn't very well impregnate ITSELF -" She gave no care about the sharp feedback sound from Alastor. " -so it decided to rearrange a few things to make room for its spawn."

"...uh huh." Charlie fought to remain calm. She was manager of the Happy Hotel. Her co-manager and patron needed her to be strong. "Okay. And Angel's been sick because...morning sickness."

"More or less. Until his body is finish adjusting properly to make for a suitable incubation host, he'll keep vomiting up toxins formed from the adjustment byproduct." She jotted down a few things on a notepad. "So until he's finished adjusting, keep any contaminates away. He'll react before they enter his body so it'll be easy to know what's safe and what isn't. I'm just going to assume he's had a particularly nasty reaction from either drugs or alcohol for the state he's in now, so suffice to say that's the first to go."

"Easy enough," Charlie said, then noted that Alastor's eyes were fizzling with static, the deer's smile almost tilted like he was very close to losing it. "...Alastor? Are YOU okay?" She winced at another feedback sound before he reined himself in, his smile most definitely ingenuous. 

"I'm fine!" he said, his words almost lost in his radio tin. "Absolutely splendid! Whyever wouldn't I be?"

The goat demon stared down at him, arching a brow. "Because you had no intention of spawning and now you're fighting of panic," she said plainly. Her expression went serious. "And before YOU decide anything for the spider, I'd wait until he's awake, past his own panic, and ready for a conversation. There's still time before incubation is settled to terminate."

There was another heavy beat of silence among them before the sound of static returned and Alastor stood himself up, brushed himself off, and wordlessly stalked away. Charlie looked between him and Angel's room, instinctive panic of her own to make everything right before the other demon put a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't interfere unless it gets physical," the goat said. "This isn't your burden or your choice. YOUR only job is support, do you understand?"

Charlie stared for a good while before sighing and nodding, her shoulders slumping. "...I understand," she said, quietly taking the notes that were jotted down earlier. "...thank you. Um...what do I owe you?"

"Oh, let it be," the goat said, waving a hand as she headed for the stairs. "This is something new for me, I consider that a win." She glanced back. "Double so, if they intend to keep it."

* * *

Alastor found himself back in the soundproof chamber beneath his radio tower, staring numbly at what was once such familiar surroundings. He tried recalling the moment that would have caused this...THING...to happen, tried to pinpoint it exactly.

And goddamn it, Angel had been RIGHT when he said his insides were rearranged. 

Why didn’t he notice? Did Angel say something about it THEN? Could he have stopped himself from finishing it?

He wasn’t even sure if he had the answer. He’d been foolish enough to let himself go with Angel Dust, to let whatever may happen, happen, simply because he thought Angel could take it. Because he thought the consequences would be minimal.

And now look where his hubris got him. 

Angel Dust was having his insides almost literally turned inside out to make adjustments for a damn abomination spawn.

HIS abomination spawn.

And for the life of him, he didn’t know what to do except lie back on the floor and stare up at nothing for the longest time, hoping for a clear answer.


	3. Making That Decision Is The Hardest Thing To Do

Angel Dust sat in his bed, numbly contemplating his abdomen as he had been doing for the past who-knew-how-long.

Pregnant.

He was fucking PREGNANT. 

All these body aches, the vomiting, the inability to even SMELL certain things was because he was PREGNANT with Alastor's eldritch abomination spawn.

And right now, Alastor was nowhere to be found. 

Angel didn't know what to do right now. Was he supposed to be happy? After all, Hellborn were rare enough down here, what many considered a dark miracle. But at the same time, he was terrified. His body was completely rearranging itself. He was in a LOT of pain from the process. But according to the bitchy goat doctor lady, there was still time to terminate before the process was finished and he'd basically have no choice but to continue carrying it.

It was something that he would have to discuss with Alastor, if only the goddamn deer were HERE.

Charlie told him that he'd left to possibly go have some thinking time, and that was almost a full day ago. Angel had slept through most of his time gone, but now he was awake, burdened with too much information to process at once, and wanting -NEEDING- his partner here to talk with him. To give him SOME sort of answer.

Charlie told him that she would help and support whatever they decided, which was all well and good save for the fact that he didn't know WHAT he wanted to decide. 

There were too many variables to think about. He and Alastor had something, but it they weren't completely out about it, nor was it a sure thing that it would fit for the long run. And by the looks of things with Alastor gone 'thinking', he was certain that this child would be a hard 'no' from him. But if Angel decided to keep it...then what? He'd raise it on its own? Give it up? HOW would he go about doing either of those things when he wasn't even fully capable of taking care of himself?

At the same time, termination didn't sit well enough with him. He didn't know if it was an attachment that the spawn was creating in his body or the fact that it was something he and Alastor made TOGETHER, but...

But right now, all Angel wanted was for Alastor to be here. To just TALK to him.

Angel bit back a sigh and tore his eyes away from his abdomen, fighting his body aches to rummage around for his phone in order to call up Alastor's microphone frequency, something he almost never did unless it was a serious emergency. He figured THIS constituted such an emergency. He listened to it ring several times without a pickup, letting it go on until silence before losing his patience.

"GODDAMN IT, AL!" he shouted, feeling a lurch in his stomach. "STOP BEING A FUCKING COWARD AND GET BACK HERE -" He dropped the phone and scrambled to untangle himself from his sheets to get to the bathroom to vomit again. At least this one only took one retch before he caught his breath, fighting back tears as he leaned against the toilet weakly.

He couldn't keep doing this, he thought, closing his eyes. He hadn't been able to eat much of anything or drink more than water for days. His body wasn't going to hold out if this kept up.

On autopilot, his hand trailed down to his abdomen. It had been about seventy-plus years since he'd even seen a pregnant person, but weren't they supposed to like...eat for two? Try to be healthy? How the fuck was this supposed to work -if he decided to make it work- if he couldn't eat anything? If he kept puking out his insides? It would be nice if this thing came with an instruction manual, which he was somewhat certain Alastor had lying around if the deer motherfucker would COME BACK. 

Angel made sure nothing else was coming up before slowly easing himself upright, rinsing his mouth out in the sink before drinking a few glasses of water just to rehydrate before easing himself back to bed before the ornery goat lady caught him up and about. He was almost to his bed when his door opened and the deer fuck himself stepped in, freezing when he saw Angel.

Angel stared back, knowing from just looking in the mirror moments ago that he looked like shit, and silently celebrated and cursed the fact that he was back at LAST. He sighed and sat down on the edge of his bed, taking a breather. "...so," he said after a moment, "got somethin' ya wanna say, Al?"

Alastor's eyes flicked between Angel's face and the spider's abdomen, a hiss of static filling the air at uncharacteristic uncertainty. "...I didn't know," was the first thing Alastor said, his smile the most fake Angel had ever seen. It made him want to slap it right off the deer's face. "I honestly had no clue this would happen."

"..peachy," Angel replied, though he could give Alastor that benefit of the doubt. "Goat lady told me plenty about it. Rearranging my insides, makin' me able to carry it, all that fuckin' stuff.” He rubbed his face hard. “So what now?”

Alastor paced from one end of the room to the other slowly, clearly in deep thought. “Termination won’t be easy,” he said, “but it’s doable. It will take some definite discomfort on your part to detach it, but I have remedies for that.”

Angel stared for a moment, brow furrowing. “...wait wait,” he said, putting his hands up. “Shouldn't we talk about this first, Al?”

“TALK about it?” Alastor’s smile twitched. “What is there to talk about, Angel? We’re getting rid of it, aren’t we? This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“Oh funny thing about ‘we’, Al,” Angel snapped. “It takes TWO to make a ‘we’, and ‘WE’ haven’t discussed anything yet!” He got to his feet, fighting back the dizziness. “I’ve been sittin’ here for hours, wonderin’ where th’ fuck you’ve been so that we could talk about this an’ figure out what’s goin’ on before makin’ any big decisions! Come to find, YOU were fucked off t’ who knows where makin’ all th’ decisions FOR me!”

“That’s not -” Alastor pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. “Let’s back up. Yes, the abominations rearranged and reformed your body in able to make you a host for breeding. I did not know that would happen, and I apologize for the pain it’s put you through. This was EXACTLY why I was wary about taking partners during this time, and I had no idea that males were capable of hosting them too.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed, his already frayed nerves being prodded at. “...so yer sayin’ you wouldn’t have even considered me if I were a broad?” he asked. “Thanks.”

Alastor shot him a look. “Don’t go looking for a fight when there is none, Angel,” he said. “I never said that.”

“Implications don’t need bein’ said,” Angel replied, crossing his arms. “But I get it. Didn’t want accidents. Why th’ fuck do ya think a chunk of my clients pick me instead of a girl?”

“...I never wanted to know that.” Alastor’s smile was strained. “But again. We need to discuss how we’re going to get rid of it.”

Angel scowled. “Can we discuss ALL th’ goddamn options before YOU pick what we do?” he snapped. 

“WHAT options!? You can’t seriously be considered keeping that thing!”

“That THING is a baby, one that YOU helped make, you jackass!”

“It’s a PARASITE!” Alastor’s pupils went vaguely dial-shaped. “Look at what it’s doing to you! Your body is nothing more than an incubation nest for it to grow!”

Angel’s claws dug into his duvet. “Yeah, th’ fuck do you think a pregnancy IS?” he snapped. “All I’m sayin’ is that we should discuss what would happen IF we decided to keep it!”

“I don’t WANT to keep it!” Alastor finally snapped back. “I NEVER wanted children. EVER. With ANYONE. ESPECIALLY in Hell. OR with you! If I had known this was even a possibility, I would NEVER have gotten you involved!”

Thick static was the only sound in the room for a long while as Alastor’s words sunk in. The Radio Demon closed his eyes, rubbing his temple. “...I didn’t mean it to sound that way -”

“Fuck you, Alastor.”

Angel stood up, numbly walking into his closet and grabbing a bag, stuffing a few outfits into it. 

“What are you doing?”

“The fuck does it look like?” Angel replied, his voice tight. “You wanna go makin’ decisions on yer own, fine, great. I can do th’ same damn thing.” He zipped the bag shut, grabbing his phone. “Whether or not I keep it or terminate it, I’ll do it on my own since you don’t give a fuck about it either way. Excuse th’ fuck outta me for GETTING INVOLVED.”

“Angel, stop it, I SAID that isn’t what I meant! I meant that if I knew you would be changed this way, I wouldn’t have involved you in that breeding time!”

“So NOW you have implications!” Angel laughed bitterly. “Funny how all of this boils down to what YOU want. How YOU wanna control things! Well guess what, motherfucker, I’m gonna tell you what I’ve been tellin assholes since I was alive!” He slung his bag over his shoulder, giving Alastor an acidic glare. “It’s my body, so I decide what goes in it. An’ right now, between this kid an’ your dick, I’d pick the kid.” He shouldered past Alastor hard, heading for the door, snarling when he felt a hand on his arm. “Let go.”

“No.”

“Goddamn it, do NOT make me scream, because I will.”

“Stay.”

“I’m fuckin’ serious, Al! Let me go!” Angel pulled at Alastor’s unrelenting grip.

“Angel, stay! Let’s -”

“Talk? NOW you wanna talk!? I’m DONE talkin’! I’m DONE!”

“I’M not!”

“Well FUCK you, I don’t CARE!”

“Please.”

Angel tensed when he felt arms slide around his middle and hold him firmly. He didn’t want to break down, not here, not on the threshold of leaving. He cursed himself, his weakness for the stupid deer, for the word ‘please’ spoken without a hint of radio tin behind it. He hated himself, hated Alastor for doing this when he just wanted one minute of certainty in all this.

Now he wasn’t certain of anything, least of all what he wanted to do and where he wanted to go; not even if he wanted to still be with Alastor when that last one should have been the easiest question in the world to answer.

He sniffled, feeling tears run down his face and his shoulders shake as the reality of everything began to pile on. He was pregnant. He didn’t know what to do. And he was scared.

Alastor quietly slipped the bag off of Angel’s shoulder and carefully scooped the spider up before stepping through shadows into his own room, where he felt more comfortable and at home in making any moves or decisions. He sat back on his couch and rearranged Angel to lie down, feeling a limpness in the spider that indicated a complete loss of fight and emotional exhaustion.

What was he doing? He had no idea. None in the world. Out of everything he expected to have to deal with in Hell, parenthood was not one of them. 

He was entirely to blame. This was HIS power that he’d had for close to ninety years, and every year he’d dealt with the low call that came with it. And while he was to blame, bringing someone else into it made it their problem too. He only wanted to fix what he caused, not create another problem entirely.

Alastor closed his eyes, leaning against the back of the couch as he forced his thoughts away from the pregnancy and toward Angel himself. Angel was considering keeping it. It was a very REAL consideration. Why? 

_‘Because it’s yours,'_ an answer came from the depths of nowhere. _‘Because he has so few attachments that he cherishes. Because it’s a part of you, and he cherishes you most of all.’_

But a child. 

Alastor had been truthful. He never wanted kids. While he’d never actively kill one, he had no fondness for the things. 

Angel, though? Coddled that pet pig of his like his own. Called himself Fat Nuggets’s ‘daddy’. Was at his most responsible and healthiest when taking care of someone or something else.

_‘Because Angel would have made a good father. Because Angel would have never had this opportunity in any other circumstance.’_

But a BABY. An infant Hellborn he was to incubate and carry himself. Why would he WANT a baby?

_‘Because his own father didn’t want HIM.’_

….oh.

Alastor looked down at Angel sleeping in his lap, seeping the spider’s lower set of hands curl around his abdomen. Angel wasn’t even showing yet, but knew something was in there. 

He ran a hand over his face, feeling like an absolute shitheel. Angel told him plenty of how much of an unwanted disappointment he was to his father. Of course Angel would take offense to Alastor behaving the same way, even to a hypothetical child. And the psychological weight of thinking he himself was like his own father in getting rid of it simply for existing.

Alastor shifted his hand, hesitating before putting it over Angel’s abdomen, feeling Angel’s claws almost reflexively press into his hand as a warning. He sighed, knowing that at this point, Angel had already made up his mind about it even if he didn’t know it yet. 

So he had three choices in front of him now. Terminate while Angel was asleep. Let Angel leave and have nothing to do with either of them while Angel made the decision on his own. Or suck it up and deal with the consequences of his own actions and choices without having to lose someone he actually gave a damn about.

…………..goddamn it.

* * *

  
  


“Angel?”

“....yeah?”

“....just answer me honestly. Do you want to keep it?”

A long, heavy length of silence.

“...yeah.”

More silence.

“...okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“....don’t be.”


	4. If You Wanna Keep the Baby, You Gotta Have a Plan

"So, you're keeping it."

Angel Dust looked over at Alastor before nodding, four hands clasped together. "...yeah," the spider said. "We are."

The goat demon -"Call me Marge."- gave the two appraising looks, focusing mostly on Alastor. "Are you certain?"

Alastor didn't meet her eyes, his claws flexing into his knee. "I am," he said.

"ARE you?" Marge didn't acknowledge the irritated short shriek of microphone feedback Alastor let out. "Because this will actually make things a lot easier if you actually REALLY think about it now instead of coming up with something desperate later." She leaned back in her chair, now looking between the two of them. "I'd say you have about another week before it's finished making you a suitable host, and then it will pretty much do everything in its power to make sure you stay intact for it."

She turned to Alastor. "And if you want nothing to do with it, just say so now. Emotional pain and physical pain would mean the same for this spawn."

Alastor's smile tightened. "I have already given my...opinion on the matter," he said. "But I also know that Angel's feelings matter on this, more than my own in consideration that he's the one carrying it." He flicked his eyes to Angel. "And I know my own responsibility. I won't shirk on it."

Marge fixed him with a stony look before nodding. "Very well," she said. "Well, if you're doing this, you have some reading to do." She reached into a bag and pulled out a few books. "Regardless of your connection to the ancient ones, Alastor, wielding their power and procreating their progeny are very different. If you're serious about this, then you're going to be cashing in more than you thought."

"...what."

"Chapter six," she said, then turned to Angel. "And YOU need to be in tune with your body in a different way than what you're used to being. This spawn is going to be needing specific needs, and if you don't provide them, then you're going to be at the mercy of the bathroom continuing to detox-vomit. Getting the spawn what it wants and being safe is your top priority."

"...can we just call it a baby? Spawn sounds so...ick."

"...really." Marge rolled her eyes. "After everything that went into MAKING it, what it actually is called makes you squeamish."

Angel gave her a blank look. "Minus puking tentacle jizz after, that was a merry fuckin' Christmas for me," he replied. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat -"

"NO." 

Alastor gave him a solid glare, his smile twitching. "Not again. Not EVER. Understood?" He held eye contact with Angel until the spider looked away.

"...sure, Al," Angel replied, his hand tightening over the front of his shirt. 

Marge glowered between the two of them again. "Still have another week to REALLY decide," she said, "because I'm about as convinced of this working out as I am of snow falling in Hell." She stood up, brushing her clothes straight. "Read the books and then make a REAL decision, not one based on something as paltry as guilt." She left them to it, shutting the door behind her.

Angel quietly contemplated the book in his hands, now feeling guilt on top of being guilty and guilting Alastor into this. Goddamn it, he should have just left. Maybe there was still time. He'd call Val and give him a heads-up, see if he was feeling charitable enough to give him a safe spot to stay.

"Whatever you're thinking, stop."

He winced, glancing at Alastor who was staring at him seriously despite the smile. "I wasn't -"

"You were." Alastor sighed, his smile slipping to a barely-curved line. "I've made my choice. And I'm choosing to stay with you."

Angel nibbled his lip, hugging the book to him. "Y'don't HAVE to," he said. "I can go away for awhile, take care o'...business...then come back."

Alastor sighed, rubbing his face. "You're not going to send yourself off like a teenager in trouble to the convent, Angel," he said. "You're staying here, where you're safe and among friends and allies. And besides." His expression went uncomfortable and somewhat worried. "...I don't think even now with there still being time...they'd let me allow harm to come to it." He paused. "Or you."

Angel didn't respond for a good while. "...so what now?" he finally asked. 

"Now," Alastor replied, holding up his small book stack. "We see if there is anything substantial to gain from these."

Turns out, there was a LOT substantial to gain.

Going by Angel Dust's demon type, rank, and power, his pregnancy would last anywhere between three to five months after the detox process ended. The cravings would begin soon enough, and it was up to Angel's discretion to figure out what it was. He may experience his own unique brand of moods and behaviors because of his animal-type instincts that may come into play. 

There was even a section in the book that explained the rearrangement of his insides in order for the new addition to fit, how it played into his actual anatomy now, and how it would further play in. Angel actually felt a phantom cramp between his legs at the fact that there were going to be FURTHER adjustments in forming a pseudo-vagina for him to birth. That part was non-negotiable, since the eldritch womb was impenetrable, so that was going to be fun.

_ 'Ma did this twice; technically three times, you can do this once,' _ he told himself as he tried to stop his loins from girding. 

Further on, he learned that much like human babies, outside influences affected ones like this. Something about self-evolving to make proper adjustments to wherever it was going to come out, something Angel understood completely. Still, he didn't want the baby to come out guns blazing, so to speak. The Hotel was meant to be a place of redemption and neutral ground, and he wanted something better for a new baby than to come out a born killer just to survive. 

On top of that, there was no real way to know WHAT it would look like coming out. Regardless of being Angel and Alastor's child, it would still be eldritch spawn first and foremost, and there was literally no telling what form it would take.

It would still be a baby, Angel told himself firmly. No matter what it looked like, he'd find a way to take care of it once it was born.

He just wanted to find what the baby wanted to eat NOW. He was already pretty moody from hunger and the detox process, but at least as long as he was in a calm mood and away from alcohol he wasn’t bothered that much. A trip down to the kitchen to figure it out would be pretty hit-or-miss, and he didn’t want to contaminate anything with puking at what the baby apparently didn’t need or want.

Angel was honestly a little more concerned with how this change would affect him in the ways of his type and what the eldritch mess would do with him to protect the baby if the need arose.

One thing at a time, he told himself as he finished up the book. He had to get past the detoxing, which was less than a week. Now that he made a decision about it, he was good.

….ah shit, he still had to call Valentino.

  
  


Charlie took it upon herself to call Val, being that she was Angel Dust’s secondary authority figure and Alastor told her that Valentino was looking to be informed of Angel’s state of health anyway. She dialed up Valentino’s office on her own office phone, wondering exactly how she was going to spin this.

After going through at least three connections, Valentino himself finally picked up.

_ “This had better be about Angel Dust instead of a solicitation for your damn hotel,” _ he said, sounding like he’d already had a bad day. Great.

“It is about Angel,” Charlie replied. “Alastor said you wanted an update on his...condition.”

_ “Yeah, is he sick or somethin’? Because it better not have spread around.” _

“No no, nothing like that.” Charlie sighed, wondering how to word this for a few seconds before deciding to just go for it. “Angel Dust is pregnant.”

Silence.

_ “...you’re shitting me.” _

“...god I wish I were.”

_ “Angel’s a fuckin’ MAN.” _

“Oh, I know.” Charlie massaged her temple. “But I’ve got Margeritha the Elder here who even confirmed it. He’s pregnant.”

She heard Valentino attempt to form a few words.  _ “HOW!?” _ he finally snapped.  _ “What kind of magic bullshit did THAT take!?” _

“The eldritch kind.”

More silence.

_ “...so you’re tellin’ me Angelcakes is pregnant, out of commission, from an eldritch fuck.” _

“An eldritch breeding session from what I was told.”

_ “Fuck me sideways.” _ Valentino sounded like he had to put the phone down to swear into his hands for a moment.  _ “How long?” _

Charlie sighed. “Anywhere from three to five months.”

_ “Fuuuuuuck.”  _ He paused.  _ “Wait, so he’s keeping it!?” _

“Yeah,” Charlie replied. “I think there’s already a bonding thing going on.”

_ “....who’s the father?” _

Charlie winced. “...I can’t say. I’m only telling you because you’re Angel’s boss and you needed the update.”

_ “Because the only ones who use that shit are the von Eldritch’s and…”  _ More silence.  _ “...do me a favor, Chaz.” _

Charlie blinked. “...uh...sure?”

_ “I can’t do it because that would cause a definite territorial pissing match that I am in NO way, shape, or form mentally or emotionally prepared for, but would you be a dear and do something to cause memorable pain to Alastor’s genitals?” _

Charlie paled. “Uh…”

_ “And have Angel give me a call later.” _ Valentino seemed in a better mood with the idea of Alastor getting kicked between the legs.  _ “We can discuss him returning to work at some point, hash out details later.” _

“Wha -”

_ “Later, Princess!” _

Click

Charlie stared at her phone, wondering how the hell she was going to get the image of something crushing Alastor’s genitals out of her head.


	5. When Momma Wants Something, You Better Go Get It

Alastor did a fair bit of his own reading, taking his time since he kept being distracted by the continuing realization that he was really doing this. He was going to be a father.

He couldn't even rationalize in that he and Angel were simply hosts for a place-and-incubate process, no. He could remember clearly that it was the tendrils that had rearranged Angel's insides, and he himself that fucked the spider six ways to Sunday with minimal input from the eldritch abominations other than an instinctive breakdown, reform, and repeat of his own body. HIS body, HIS seed. Of course the spawn would have eldritch attributes, but first and foremost, it would be his and Angel's. 

He found himself mulling over the argument he had with Angel, making his own feelings clear and then being unable to back them up at the thought of Angel leaving. Of the revelations of Angel taking full responsibility if need be out of his own guilt and trauma, possibly never returning to the father who didn't want his child.

How many times had he assuaged Angel that Henroin had been wrong every time, that Angel was enough, even for him, only to become that very creature when faced with his own progeny?

Alastor sighed. He always found himself soft when it came to Angel Dust, bypassing, bending, and even breaking his own rules time and time again when it came to the spider. He swore it was some innate power that even Angel wasn't aware of that allowed this closeness, but that was neither here nor there. He had been determined to get rid of the spawn, but after finding that it would mean losing Angel as well, he'd conceded. 

And now here he was, well past the point of no return, reading books on eldritch breeding and parenthood with no idea in Hell of what he was supposed to do.

The best that he could do was try.

Oh gods, this was trying.

The books said that the spawn would have a better quality of life and may develop faster with good relationships with the closeness of its parents. So he took to being as close as often with Angel despite the tentativeness of where they were right now. It wasn't too hard to start, mostly by sitting together in the common areas of the Hotel, escorting Angel wherever he needed to be, and even taking naps when they could with Alastor still needing to keep up his manager paperwork AND his radio networking, so having nighttime sleeping together was a little too out of the cards at the moment.

With it being out of the cards, Angel seemed to be waking up cranky, which reached a high when he woke up one day alone, in a foul mood, and hungry.

He threw on a pair of spandex shorts and a loose pink sweater, ignoring his normal boots because he felt too irritated to tug them on and instead pulled on some cloth boots to trudge downstairs for something to alleviate his mood that wouldn't trigger his gag reflex. He managed to bypass everyone downstairs and made his way into the kitchen to start his search.

Angel sniffed the coffee; that was okay. The creamer almost turned his stomach. The sugar, not so much. Black with sugar it was. He started up the percolator and began searching for food.

No

Nope

Nada

(he took a break to retch in the sink for a moment)

And fuck THAT in particular. 

He poured out a cup and dumped a bunch of sugar into it to stave off the bitterness, taking a sip and hating the taste without the cream but accepting it because of how it stayed down but he was still FUCKING HUNGRY.

"The hell do you WANT?" he demanded softly to his abdomen. "Coffee yes, milk no, sugar yes, salt no, and you almost kicked my ass because of damn apples!" He looked through the pantry, hoping the dry food wouldn't be anything to set him off. "What do deer eat, grass and shit? Because no offense, sweetie, but fuck that."

He finished his coffee as he perused the pantry, finding nothing to his liking and his hunger only getting worse. In a childish act of rebellion, he grabbed the canister of sugar and a spoon, stalking out of the kitchen eating it while mentally hating everyone and everything.

The others saw him walking out shoveling spoonfuls of pure sugar into his mouth, and unfortunately, Vaggie was the one to set him off.

"You know we all use that, right?"

Husk's ears flattened and he ducked on reflex as Angel Dust glowered and threw the canister on the floor, shattering it. "WELL FUCK YOU FOR FINDING TH' ONE GODDAMN THING I CAN KEEP DOWN IN THIS PLACE!" he shouted, lobbing the spoon at her before stalking back upstairs, stomping the whole way.

While Niffty scurried in to clean, Husk gave Vaggie a tired glare. "You REALLY just commented on what a pregnant person was eating?" he asked with near-incredulousness. "Wow."

Charlie winced, quietly scooting away to call Alastor up on her phone.

_"Hello?"_

"Al, it's Charlie. Um...are you getting back in anytime soon?"

_"I am, in about an hour, why?"_

"Angel's having a bad time. He walked out of the kitchen eating a canister of pure sugar, then threw it to the ground when Vaggie said it was for everyone and he went back upstairs. I don't think he's doing okay."

Alastor barely withheld a sigh on the other end. _"I'll be there in a moment."_

"Thanks, Al." Charlie hung up, then ventured upstairs to see if there was anything she could do to salvage Angel's mood.

Alastor returned to the Hotel five minutes after the call, carrying an assortment of things with him and a wad of cash for Niffty to get more from the grocery store, instructing her to get 'one of everything' in the raw foods aisle with the addition of picking up ingredients for everyone else's dinner that night before making his way up to Angel's bedroom. Charlie was standing outside of the bedroom, her hands wringing and expression akin to being told puppies were cancelled with a hint of being called a bitch to her face.

"Oh thank goodness!" she exclaimed when he came over, her shoulders slumping. "Okay, he's...a little cranky, that's what I was told to expect...oh, just so we're clear, you don't have any dairy on you, do you?"

"...I do not," Alastor replied, holding up a bag. "Just a few things from my kitchenette in the station, but -"

"And no salt?"

"No -"

"And no apples? Because he apparently can smell them on me -"

"Charlie dear, no. You said sugar, I have sugar." He held up a bag. "May I?" Charlie stepped aside, muttering a 'good luck' before she scurried back downstairs. "Angel?"

The spider was sitting up in bed, primary arms crossed over his chest with his secondary set over his abdomen, looking like his mood had taken a nosedive since Alastor last saw him. It didn't improve when Alastor walked in, and he swore he could hear Angel's teeth grinding as he set the bag down, taking out his metal tin of sugar he kept in the kitchenette for when company wanted something sweet in their coffee. "I brought this for you."

Angel looked up, gauging Alastor's expression as though figuring out if he was being made fun of or not before allowing the Radio Demon closer to give it to him, taking the offered spoon with it. "...thanks," he muttered, popping the tin open and eating a spoonful of raw sugar. "Damn baby wants raw sugar. Ain't meals supposed to be balanced or some shit?"

"I wouldn't know," Alastor admitted, sitting down on the end of the bed. "And this IS a...different circumstance as far as childbearing goes. What was true for humans will not be the same down here." He drummed his fingers on his knee. "We'll figure out what it is it wants."

"Better not be straight raw sugar," Angel grumbled. "Th' grit hurts my teeth." He ate a few more spoonfuls before it became too much sweetness even for him, setting the rest of the sugar tin aside. "No milk for my coffee, no fruits, an' I SWORE it told me t' fuck off when I ate an apple." He massaged his temple. "At least it lets me still have coffee."

Alastor nodded a little. "...Charlie might have mentioned that coffee might not be..." He trailed off when he saw a glint of actual red cross Angel's black eye. "...but as I said, this is not the average pregnancy, and it has no issues, so that's that."

Pacified, Angel leaned back against the headboard and took a mental breather as Alastor played out some soft jazz, waiting out Niffty's prompt return from the store, bustling into Angel's room with bags that were twice her size.

"I got one of everything!" she chirped, pushing them over. "Let's see, we have vegetables in this bag, fruits and grains, in this one -"

"No apples!"

Niffty surreptitiously fished one out and threw it out of the room as Alastor began fished a few more things out and handed them over for Angel to inspect.

"This is BULLSHIT!" Angel wailed after throwing a pepper across the room -Alastor caught it to pack it away for jambalaya later for everyone else- and sitting back hard. "Sugar. Sugar and coffee. What the FUCK!?" He leaned his head back on the headboard. "...I'm gonna fuckin' die. Of sugar shock or starvation, I'm gonna die."

"You're not going to die, Angel," Alastor said. "Of course not. We'll find something else then."

Angel grumbled, reaching for the sugar tin again before pausing, sniffing the air. "...'ey, what else ya got there?" he asked Niffty, who was packing the rest of the rejected bits away.

"Oh, it's just pot roast for everyone's dinner tonight -hey!" Niffty huffed when Angel reached over the side of the bed to snatch up the last bag, looking inside to see a large beef rump roast. "It's going to be made with onions and carrots and potatoes and you vetoed those."

"We'll set aside unseasoned pieces for you if you -" Alastor broke off, his ears lying flat when Angel dug his claws into the roast to rip out a piece and shove it into his mouth raw. "...are feeling up to trying it."

Angel sat back with the roast, picking more pieces out to eat. "Uh huh, sure," he said around bloody mouthfuls. "Hey, Niff, be a doll an' pick up enough t' fill th' freezer, a'ight?"

Niffty's eye twitched. "I guess we're not having pot roast tonight," she said testily. "That was the last one."

"Thanks for it then."

"...I you weren't pregnant, I would stick a needle in your eye." Niffty, grumbled to herself as she grabbed the bag of rejected foods and stalked out to the kitchen to put it all away.

Alastor watched Angel Dust pick apart and eat the raw cut of meat with little regard to the mess, the sight making him a bit peckish himself as he reached out to snag a piece only to have Angel snatch it away and glare at him. "Al, I will sacrifice you to yer own damn gods if ya take away th' only think I've been able t' keep down for weeks!" he snapped. He waited until Alastor backed away to the other end of the bed before returning to his meal.

...only three-to-five more months to go, he thought to himself.


	6. The Name Game (and How to Win At It Entirely)

At very least with the mystery of what Angel Dust could eat while still getting some solid nutrients solved, it made things mildly easier for the rest of the Hotel.

The eating part, anyway. Angel's temper still hung by a thread and a hair-trigger and nobody -not a damned soul- remarked or even LOOKED at him while he ate downstairs with everyone else. Only Alastor had the 'privilege' of handling Angel's meals and remarking at how much better Angel looked with proper protein. 

Where exactly Alastor was getting all of the best cuts of meat almost anyone had ever seen, no one knew. They didn't want to know. And it was probably best that way.

The terror of Angel's appetite was ended for almost two weeks before it started right back up again.

On Tuesday, Angel wanted beef. Two days after Alastor went out and fetched as much beef as he could, Angel suddenly said he was in the mood for liver. Fine. More liver. By Sunday, Niffty was threatening to revolt if she couldn't have freezer space for her own organization bits.

"Fuckin' Hell, Al, just get what Angel wants AS he wants it!" Husk snapped before Alastor could go bulk shopping for poultry. "Pregnancy cravings change ALL the fuckin' time, and we have three whole chickens frozen away. Start with that." He rubbed his temple. "...and see if he'll take it in a broth, raw chicken fuckin' reeks."

Alastor conceded, taking on eating the bulk of the food packed away in the freezer on his own after Angel Dust was asleep. It was basically the only time he could eat in peace, with seasoning and garnishing vegetables and all the salt and pepper and Tabasco he could desire.

He also rearranged his schedule somewhat, setting up his broadcasts to start earlier so he could at least be home for Angel Dust when he woke up. After a few days, he had a routine; get back to the Hotel, rest himself for a few hours, get up before Angel (unless the spider had to wake up for either the bathroom or a shower) and make sure to have plenty of sugary coffee ready. After that, it was usually a guessing game of what to eat; if things went well, Angel's mood was fine. If not, then there would be another half-hour of Angel vomiting followed by any smell setting him off for the next hour before they tried again.

Today was a lucky day. Angel was still into poultry, which thankfully also transferred to eggs, which Angel ate either raw or over soft. A lie-in, coffee, and breakfast downstairs without anything triggering Angel's smell. They ate by themselves, Angel focusing on his meal while Alastor sipped coffee with the newspaper, intending on getting into his leftover gumbo later.

"Hey, Al?"

Alastor's ear flicked, looking up. "Hm? What is it?" 

Angel nibbled his lip, poking at his lightly-scrambled eggs with his fork. "Have you...been thinkin' about names?"

Oh boy. Naming it. Surest way to make sure it can never go away. Much like the cat he kept hidden from his mother when he was a child. He put his paper down, replying, "I admit that I have not. What's brought this on?"

"I dunno," Angel said with a shrug. "I'm just thinkin' it'll be one more thing outta th' way once it's here."

"...we don't even know what it will be, Angel."

"Yeah, so?" Angel sipped his coffee. "We can pick a neutral name. Just kinda tired of callin' it 'it', y'know?"

"...no. Not really."

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure if it weren't for th' sex, you wouldn't even know MY gender, so..."

Alastor rolled his eyes. "I'm very sure your drunken escapade where you ran through the lobby naked solved that mystery for me anyway," he replied. "And anyway, you've never referred to yourself as anything but 'him', so it was none of my business to know otherwise regardless."

"Until it became yer business." Angel gave him a saucy grin before finishing his food. "So. Names. Got any preferences?"

"None at all."

"Aaaaal!" Angel whined. "Come on, you REALLY want our kid to be stuck with a name you hate because ya left it ALL to me?"

THAT at least gave Alastor some pause; whether he actually wanted the spawn or not, he would be god damned five times over before his own progeny was saddled with something that could be easily misconstrued as a hard drug. "Why?" he asked suspiciously, "what names were YOU thinking of?"

Angel sipped his coffee, looking a little more peppy now that Alastor was at last curiously participating. "Well," he replied, "I do like th' name Francesca."

Alastor blinked; he hadn't been expecting THAT. "...hardly a gender-neutral name," he replied. "I like Francis."

"...Al, nothing will guarantee an ass-kicking like th' name 'Francis'. No." He huffed, leaning his head on one of his hands. "This is gonna be harder than I thought."

"...well...any family names you're fond of to recycle?"

Angel made a face. "Not particularly," he replied. "...so...guess it's up t' us." He thought for a moment. "How about we have five vetos each, an' we hafta really consider th' others."

Alastor sighed. "Sounds tedious, but alright." He sat back. "Paris?"

"Could you BE any more of French descent? Veto." Angel drummed his fingers over his abdomen. "Andy."

"Veto. It won't stay five years old forever. Lou."

"...fine, one for th' back burner," Angel conceded. "Don't suppose Al Jr. is in th' cards?"

"......do I really need to say it? No."

"Allie?"

"Veto. That's three out of five, Angel."

Angel rolled his eyes, folding his primary arms on the table and leaning his head on them. "...is it bad that 'Veto' is startin' to sound good?"

"Unfortunately." Alastor stood up. "I have some errands to run. I'll see you for dinner, alright?"

"Sure," Angel intoned, his expression somewhat far away as Alastor finished his coffee and headed to his office.

Names, now before they even knew what it was, or what it even looked like, Alastor thought with a mental sigh. And it would be just their luck that the name they settled with was one that just wouldn't match and they'd have to start this whole mess all over again. 

He put it out of mind for the rest of his day, sorting through paperwork for the Hotel and finishing scheduling for his weekend radio lineup before going out to pick up a few things for himself and Angel Dust. It was dinner by the time he returned, though Angel Dust was nowhere to be seen.

"He said he wasn't feeling all that well," Charlie informed him. "So I guess he's skipping dinner."

Alastor huffed. "Absolutely not," he said, snapping his fingers to put his errand bag away. "He shouldn't skip meals at all. I'll take something up to him." He went into the kitchen to put a few eggs into a bowl and as an afterthought put a little pile of sugar cubes onto a saucer before heading upstairs, knocking on Angel's door. 

"Angel? I'm back." At hearing no reply, Alastor ventured a look inside to make sure Angel was decent, spotting the spider lying back on the bed with his lights on dim. A good bit late for a nap but too early for bed, Alastor thought, though he kept his footfalls silent as he set the eggs and sugar cubes on the vanity before turning to gently rouse Angel from sleep to eat something.

He noticed then that Angel had a small notebook under his hand, a pencil limply poised like he had fallen asleep writing. Alastor gently maneuvered the notebook from under Angel's hands and gave it a short peruse.

DOZENS of names had been jotted down, crossed out, some scribbled away entirely, and one or two had question marks next to them. Alastor's brow furrowed as he looked through the pages until his eyes landed on one that was enthusiastically circled with exclamation points and little hearts scribbled around it.

An...apt name, perhaps, he conceded, feeling his ears twitch slightly as he stared at it with some emotion he couldn't quite place. He couldn't find fault with it, and Angel seemed to adore it. 

He stared quietly at the name before glancing at Angel's abdomen, seeing one of Angel's hands pressed against it as the spider had a habit of doing every time he slept. He put the notebook back down on the bed, the eggs and sugar cubes on the bedside table next to some water, and quietly headed back downstairs for dinner before changing his mind and going to his office instead to sit in his own quiet contemplation.

Leave it to Angel Dust to come up with the simplest compromise, he thought almost fondly, actually finding himself liking it the longer he thought about it.

Fawn. 

His little fawn.


	7. Mood Swings and Instincts and Nests (Oh My)

Marge came by at least once a week to check on the progress of the pregnancy, usually staying long enough to take some notes and give some pointers before leaving just as quickly. By the time the first month was over, Angel was showing and the day he couldn't pull his favorite jacket closed around him was the day the rest of the Hotel suddenly felt that something else was coming.

And by 'felt', they meant 'heard Angel screaming from his room so loudly the windows shook downstairs'. 

"I'm guessing his patience for his wardrobe has run out," Marge said, having just walked in for the weekly progress. "Development will only be faster from now on, so he'd best be comfortable."

"Wonderful," Vaggie muttered, leaning her head on her hand. "As if having to rearrange our food schedules wasn't bad enough."

Marge snorted. "It'll get worse," she stated. "I'm just curious as to how much worse." She waved away Charlie offering her some coffee as she sat down to wait for Angel's tantrum to subside. "So, how have they been?"

"Well, Angel's been a little testy," Charlie said delicately. "Mostly with his clothes, as you said. He's happy enough with his diet, and he's able to handle a few root vegetables as long as they're cooked with meat. I think he's still a little...upset he can't have dairy, but he copes."

Marge made a noncommittal sound. "Sleeping habits?"

"He's going to bed earlier and sleeping in later," Charlie replied. "He doesn't come downstairs all that much anymore...and I AM worried about his health, being cooped up like this."

"Don't be," Marge replied. "Eldritch, spiders, and deer alike prefer an out-of-the-way place they know is safe for breeding. But if he's bored, that could reflect badly on his mood. Make sure he has enough to read or watch, and he'll be fine." She sat back. "And Alastor?"

Charlie nibbled her lip. "...I can't really tell," she said honestly. "He's doing his part best he can, getting things for Angel and all that, rearranging his broadcast schedules and such, but he never really talks about it. I think he's still figuring that part out."

Marge nodded before standing up. "Might as well get the checkup out of the way," she said, making her way up the stairs to Angel's room, Charlie tailing behind nervously. The elder demon walked up to the door, rapping on it briskly. “Angel, it’s Marge. Are you decent?”

_ “What’s th’ password?” _

Marge gave the door a blank look. “....really.”

Charlie slipped over, raising her voice a little. “Angel, it’s Charlie! It’s just me and Marge!”

_ “Password!” _

Charlie looked ready to argue before sighing, pinching the bridge of her nose and gritting her teeth. “...’fleshlight’.” She ran a hand down her face as she heard the door unlock and crack open a little, Angel’s suspicious narrowed eye peering through before the spider opened it. “...can’t you come up with another password? Or, like...just let us in?”

“...no.” Angel turned back to his room, which was beginning to look more untidy than usual, but he seemed not to care. He sat down on his bed, having changed back into his loose comfortable pajamas because of his wardrobe issue. Marge gave the room a surreptitious look before focusing back on Angel.

“Anything new to report on?” she asked.

Angel rolled his eyes, crossing his secondary arms over his abdomen. “Other than not bein’ able to fit into my damn clothes? Nah.”

“Changes in diet?”

“No.”

“Any movement from the spawn?”

Angel’s eye twitched. “It’s a baby. And no.”

“Fair enough. You’re healthy, it’s healthy, and no one’s dead yet. Sounds good to me.” Marge headed out, Charlie following with a confused look.

“...that was quick,” Charlie remarked. “Usually you prod a little.”

Marge gave a grunt of displeasure. “At this point with how temperamental Angel Dust is, those voodoo shadows staring at me from every corner of the room would have likely taken my limbs off if I touched him.” She shook her head. “Alastor may not talk much about it, but he’s doing plenty. Give it perhaps another month, and you’ll likely have to tread carefully on this entire floor of the Hotel.”

“Why’s that?”

“Oh, you’ll know. Just watch for the signs.”

Charlie sighed with a nod. “Alright,” she said, not knowing anything at all.

  
  


Visitors were allowed, naturally, once a trusted few were made privy to Angel’s condition. Cherri was the first to know, with her almost kicking the front doors down wanting to know where ‘her bitch’ was. After thanking God, Satan, and Buddha that Alastor had been out at that time, Charlie quickly texted Angel asking if it was okay if Cherri knew.

To her credit, Cherri was pretty toned down about it and didn’t make much of a noisy fuss, understanding completely that it had to be kept hush-hush for the most part because of obvious reasons. Pregnant sinners and Hellborn alike were easy targets, and at the same time both Alastor and Angel Dust had reputations to manage.

Cherri quickly learned Angel’s food of the week and had it on hand in bulk to appease the pregnancy cravings when she came to visit and give updates on the outside world that the internet couldn’t provide.

Sometimes in between those visits, Molly was the one to come in and provide more tempered and quiet company. She had stopped by for a regular visit with her brother and learned about the pregnancy then, and was sworn to secrecy to keep it from the rest of the family; Arackniss probably wouldn’t care either way but he would definitely tell their father if given the chance.

Angel didn’t want to give him that chance.

Further into the second month, Angel wasn’t too keen on visitors all that much anymore, either too tired or too cranky to put up with them. It was around that time that when Charlie went to check up on Angel every couple of hours while Alastor was away, she began to notice something odd about Angel’s room floor.

For one, there was a heavier, muskier smell on the floor, the scent growing stronger closer to Angel’s door. When she actually paid attention, she could see markings on the walls that looked like scratches and scrapes. At that point, Husk adamantly refused to go on that floor for any reason.

Despite the off scent and odd wall marks, Charlie still made her rounds to make sure Angel was being taken care of, noticing that with each visit, Angel’s room became progressively messier, more pillows and cushions piling on his bed, creating an untidy but cozy bed nest of sorts. She could now also see the ‘voodoo shadows’ Marge spoke of before, recognizing them as the small little shadow creatures Alastor often sent out on errands she was contractually obligated not to ask about, keeping a close eye out on Angel Dust and anyone else who happened to be in the room.

By that point, she actually had Angel’s moods and food schedules down herself, figuring out that Angel Dust’s dietary needs shuffled every nine days, with every other shuffle being poultry of any sort. He was amicable for visitors between one and three pm, no exceptions, and was at his least agreeable right after waking up and after three pm.

Apparently others got the memo too because at two pm, the Hotel doors opened without any care of knocking and in walked Valentino himself.

“Ah, shit,” Husk muttered, immediately taking the top-shelf bottles down and putting them into the small cellar under the bar for safekeeping as Charlie bit back a sigh and put on her happy face, walking over.

“Hi...Valentino…” she said, biting back a grimace. “What brings you here?”

Valentino arched a brow, staring down at her from over his shades. “What, I need a reason to see my favorite sugarbaby and see how he’s doing?”

Charlie gave him a look. “...yes. Yes you do.”

“Fair enough. I AM here to check up on him, though. Is he decent?”

Charlie sighed, taking out her phone and texting Angel up. 

**_Are you okay for a visitor?_ **

She only waited a moment before a reply.

**_Sure. Who._ **

**_Val_ **

There was a longer pause.

**_Sure_ **

Charlie put her phone away. “He can see you,” she said, leading the way upstairs, Valentino keeping in slow stride behind her. When they reached Angel’s floor, her nose wrinkled at the excessively off smell, hearing Valentino grumble about it behind her.

“What in the world IS that?” he muttered. 

“I honestly don’t know,” Charlie admitted. “Something to do with the pregnancy I’m sure.” She walked to Angel’s door, knocking softly. “Angel? It’s Charlie.”

_ “Password!” _

She rolled her eyes with a sigh. “‘Raspberry lube’.” Behind her, Valentino snorted as the door was unlocked and cracked open; Angel was not close by, but Charlie could see a flicker of one of Alastor’s shadows before it scurried away. “Honestly, Angel, couldn’t you come up with something else?”

“No.” Angel was sitting up among his menagerie of pillows and cushions. “Can we make this quick? I need a bath before dinner.”

“I see that pregnancy has done nothing for your impatience, Angelcakes,” Valentino said, stepping into the room, looking around with distaste at the untidiness. “...or your organizational skills.”

Angel huffed, crossing his arms. “You carry a baby an’ tell me how motivated you are for anythin’ besides eatin’ and sleepin’,” he replied. “What’s up?”

Valentino stayed where he was, not keen on sitting on anything and possibly getting the smell that was in the room on him. “Nothing too big to report on, the usual bullshit going on with nobody knowing what the hell they’re doing. An inconvenience, but it’s Hell, what do you do?”

“Fire ‘em and get someone who knows what the fuck they’re doin’,” Angel replied with a shrug, taking a sip from this thermos of coffee. “If your patience durin’ February movie shoots is anything like mine right now, I’m surprised you haven’t already fired someone.”

“Who says I haven’t?” Valentino snorted. “I’ve got one put back on gangbang duty with three more about ready to get kicked out to street work if they don’t get their acts together.” He leaned against the wall with a smirk. “Not everyone is as well-rounded as you, Angelcake.”

Angel rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m th’ whole package. Porn star, centerfold, street poster.” He poked his abdomen. “Mother.”

Valentino flicked his eyes to Angel’s abdomen with an unreadable look. “Speaking of, Angel -”

“Oh please, Valentino,” Alastor’s voice hissed from the shadows as he stepped out, his smile strained and displeased. “Finish that train of thought. I’m begging you.”

“Alastor,” Valentino said tightly, standing up straight off the wall. “A pleasure to see you. Doing well?”

“Oh, splendid!” Alastor’s vice was overlaid with a warbled hiss of changing stations as he stepped closer, his aura almost tangibly pushing at the air as though to shoo Valentino away. “Absolutely wonderful! Never better! Go away.”

Valentino arched a brow, crossing his arms. “Rude,” he said. “I was having a conversation with Angel. A full one, considering I KNOW you scramble my texts, you noseybody.”

Alastor’s smile twitched, the sound of bones cracking filling the air. “Angel Dust needs rest,” he said testily. “Anything you have to say has no effect on his state right now, so again. Shoo.”

“It’s not like I’m asking him to film in his condition!” Valentino snapped, a third hand on his hip. “As rare a commodity that IS, but that’s neither here nor there -”

“You have until the count of three to leave this floor before I pluck your arms off and peel your genitals like a banana.”

“Al!” Angel hissed, sounding mortified as Valentino snorted.

“You can barely REACH my dick, little man,” he replied. “And don’t make kinky promises you can’t keep.” He tossed his head, blowing Angel Dust a kiss. “Give me more updates, Angelcake, you know how I worry!” He headed out of the door, being tailed by Alastor. “...and it may be none of my business, but you may want to consider switching body washes. You reek.”

The sound of Alastor’s offended microphone feedback sound mixed with more cracking bone sounds, Valentino glancing back and seeing Alastor’s antlers had expanded out to a generous ten points, the foul musky scent stronger now. “Nauseating.”

“As is your disgusting presence,” Alastor shot back, his smile too wide even by demon standards as he gave a slight warning lurch forward, making Valentino draw back with an incredulous look.

“...are you ACTUALLY brandishing at me?” he demanded. Alastor’s shoulders haunching and eyes narrowing let him know that the next lurch just might put those prongs through his chest cavity. “Fine, jeeze...crazyass Bambi motherfucker…” He grumbled as he picked up the pace, heading down to at least get a drink at the bar before going away.

Alastor followed him until he got to the stairs and even then eyed him going down before huffing and scraping his antlers on the stairs’ rail posts, extending out his ‘territory’ again as a warning before heading back to Angel’s room, antlers shrinking down to a reasonable six-point before stepping in. “He’s left.”

Angel gave him a look that promised a thousand unpleasant screams to come. “...Al. I know I’m bein’ a real big bitch because I’m pregnant, but believe it or not, I get fuckin’ STARVED for company, even if it’s my boss comin’ in t’ shoot th’ breeze. So could you just...NOT?”

“Not what?”

“Just NOT.” Angel crossed both sets of arms over his chest and abdomen, looking torn between a pouting session and a big hissy fit. Alastor sighed, walking over and sitting down, keeping his hands to himself lest Angel break his wrist. Again.

“Angel, it isn’t...exactly easy for me either,” he said carefully. “You are not the only one almost overflowing with damned hormones you can’t do anything about.” He absently reached up to scratch at his antlers; the more constant expansion of them were making them itch like crazy. “So if something drives me to scrape up the walls and keep other men away from you, it’s better to just...do it and get it over with rather than distract myself ignoring it.”

Angel sighed, rubbing his temple. “Why couldn’t you’ve been a seahorse or some shit?”

“Because this is Hell, dear, and life isn’t fair. This is Hell, you’re a pregnant male spider, and I’m a stag with a seventh sense exclusively put in place to know when outside testosterone is anywhere near my ma...” There was a sharp record scratch sound followed by a station change. “...you. Anywhere near you and the faw -baby.” He cleared his throat. “You and the baby.”

Angel slowly blinked before his features relaxed, reaching out and giving Alastor’s shoulder a soft pat. “...alright,” he said quietly. “I getcha, Al. Eldritch bullshit.”

“...yes. Eldritch bullshit.”

They sat in silence for a few moments before Angel’s free hands began rearranging the pillows and cushions to accommodate two in a cozy spot instead of just himself. “...want a rest?”

Alastor sighed. “Angel -”

“A rest, not a fuck, Al. In fact, I made extra space. I’m feelin’ the ‘don't-touch-me’ time comin’ along.”

Alastor deliberated for a few moments before lying on his back in the space that was made for him, staring up at the ceiling as Angel Dust curled up on his side to get comfortable, the spider out like a light in moments.

Half-dozing himself, Alastor’s nose twitched and ears listened out; his marked territory was empty and quiet. Male competition was nowhere to be seen or heard. His doe and fawn were safe. 

Just for a moment, everything was right in the world.


	8. When Hormones Collide (and Everyone Learns Why Females of Some Species are to Be Feared)

Alastor headed downstairs late in the evening, beelining for the bar and sitting down hard. "Husker, old friend, could I trouble you for the dark rum?"

Husk arched a brow. "This early? You usually start with the Courvoisier before shows."

"I'm not broadcasting tonight."

Husk's paw froze as it went to grab the dark rum selections. "...you're not?" He wisely chose the 40-proof selection. "Why?"

Alastor sighed, sounding equal parts annoyed and concerned. "Angel Dust hasn't been sleeping properly," he said. "He's most relaxed when I'm nearby, and I finally got him to sleep. If I leave, he'll just wait up all night and be an unholy terror in the morning."

"Yeesh," Husk said, pouring out the rum and adding a twist of orange before handing it over. "Are you gonna just take a hiatus then?" He watched Alastor knock back half of it in one go, not really the best sign. "...or you could work from here? I'm sure Charlie wouldn't say no to an auxiliary radio tower."

"No, but she WOULD object to me using the basement for the better segments."

"...'better' is subjective."

“And subjective says better.” Alastor sipped at his drink. “I may take a hiatus.”

Husk tread lightly over that information. “...it IS only another month or two,” he said carefully. “This whole thing is taking up a lot of everyone’s time, yours especially. You’re already getting burnout, don’t deny it.”

Alastor huffed. “At any other point, I would have given you a warning.” He knocked back the rest of his rum. “But you’re right.” He sat back, pushing the glass away. “Now I need to go chew on some beef before Angel smells rum on my breath and punches me in the mouth.”

“Harsh.”

“I would rather the mouth than about two feet lower, Husker.”

“Fair enough.” Husk poured himself out his own drink. “...a hiatus, though. You gonna be good with that?”

“I can get by without hunting for a few months,” Alastor replied, his clawtips tapping on the counter, looking almost twitchy at the very notion of what was to come. He ignored the look of deadpan disbelief Husk gave him and stood up to go get the smell of rum out of his mouth with something to eat.

Husk shook his head, tipping back his drink. “He won’t last th’ month.”

“Alastor, I never thought I’d say this, but you need to go out and do whatever it is you need to do to calm down before I suspend you.”

It was a rare thing to see Charlie’s stern side, especially directed at Alastor; enough so that Niffty even stopped cleaning and Husk put down the bottle to catch every momentous second.

Alastor’s ears flattened, betraying the solid smile on his face. “I haven’t the slightest idea why you feel I need to ‘get out and calm down’, dear,” he told Charlie, a tilted glitch to his voice. “I’m perfectly fine!” He shot Husk a glare when the cat snorted.

Charlie put her hands on her hips. “Alastor. As owner and chief manager, I’m MAKING you take time off. Effective immediately.”

It had been a long time since Husk has seen Alastor’s eye twitch, but the Radio Demon just gave Charlie a tight smile. “...of...course,” Alastor said through his teeth. “I’ll take my leave, then. Excuse me.” He turned on heel and stalked out of the Hotel, the door shutting behind him with slightly more force than was necessary.

Husk looked between the door and Charlie. “...did you just put him on paternity leave?”

“Yes, I did,” Charlie said with a huff. “He needs some downtime too, as stressed as he is.” She headed to the front desk to take over as Husk rolled his eyes and picked his drink back up.

“Didn’t even last three days, damn Bambi.”

  
  


Alastor couldn’t stay out for long. His territory may be compromised. His doe is vulnerable. His fawn even moreso. But he needed to hunt and his doe needed to eat. 

That last instinct was eating at him the most. 

More recently, he began feeling like his life was in danger whenever he went into Angel’s room without any food. A strange smell permeated the air, almost like a warning to not repeat the mistake twice, and Alastor felt that he should truly heed that warning.

But no ordinary meal would do. It had to be fresh and of perfect quality, and Alastor’s pride would not deign to take it pre-slaughtered. He supposed that’s what had him dragging a semi-conscious goat from the Purgatory Forest through the Hotel doors and past a bewildered Charlie and Vaggie, an exasperated Husk, and a fretting Niffty who was borderline furious at her boss for the thin blood trail the deer was leaving behind. 

“...we can’t even be mad, we wanted him out of the Hotel,” Charlie said.

“I CAN BE MAD!” Niffty screeched, already scrubbing the carpet with shampoo. “I CAN BE VERY MAD!”

The hard, unblinking look Angel was giving him let Alastor let him know he made the right choice in bringing in fresh kill. Alastor held the goat out as an offering and almost lost a finger when Angel snatched it up and began tearing it apart to feed himself.

A messy view, if not a somewhat arousing one. And Niffty was sure to have another fit at the mess. But Angel was satisfied with his meal, and Alastor’s head would remain for another day.

He really wanted a bite of it, though.

Alastor left Angel to his own devices and went to get something to eat for himself before he decided to turn the Hotel into a hunting house.

“Where do ya think yer goin’?”

Alastor turned back around, seeing Angel giving him a slightly more heated look. Odd, considering he THOUGHT he’d done everything right. “...I’m going to get food of my own,” Alastor replied. “I won’t be gone long.”

“C’mere,” Angel demanded with no room for argument. Alastor kept his guard up as he stepped back into Angel’s space, watching cautiously as Angel pushed the remainder of the goat away and gave the -somewhat- clean space next to him a pat. “Sit.”

On alert by reflex, Alastor obeyed, crawling onto the bed and sitting next to Angel. Angel leaned closer, resting his head on Alastor’s shoulder almost lovingly. The fact that his face was still bloody and was getting on Alastor’s coat went completely uncared for. Still, it was quiet and gentle enough that Alastor allowed it, happy that the sense of impending doom had ebbed out of the room.

“You’ve been so good t’ me, Al,” Angel purred, curling two sets of arms around the deer. “Takin’ care o’ me, feedin’ me...feedin’ US…” His third set of arms extended out, one hand rubbing his abdomen while the other rested on Alastor’s thigh. “Yer gonna be such a good daddy.”

A shift in Angel’s scent that was three times sweeter than normal but ringing no fewer danger bells put Alastor on alert again. He was proven right when Angel’s nuzzling moved to his face, the arms around his body tightening somewhat.

“I can’t very well be a good father if I’m devoured, Angel,” he said pragmatically. “If you’re still hungry, it will only take a moment -” He let out an embarrassingly cervine yelp when he was suddenly pinned back on the bed.

“I ain’t hungry, Al,” Angel said. “‘Least not in that way.”

Alastor’s ears almost flattened, pushing at Angel’s shoulders. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Angel let out a mildly irritated growl. “Do I LOOK like I’m jokin’, Al? I’m horny as fuck an’ haven’t had any in MONTHS.” His tone was almost needy, hands gripping Alastor’s clothes tightly. “An’ it’s only gettin’ WORSE.”

“I’m not going to have sex with you while you’re pregnant!”

“Oh what the fuck ya think’s gonna happen, Al, not like you can knock me up again!”

“We don’t know that!”

Angel groaned, running a hand over his face. “Fuck’s sake, Al...did you even READ th’ damn chapter about hormones?!”

“I tried not to.” Apparently the wrong thing to admit, if his fight-or-flight instincts just kicked into overdrive. “It seemed a little less important in terms of keeping you safe and fed -”

“ -an’ SATISFIED,” Angel finished for him. “Al, not to’ shit on everythin’ you’ve done for me or put any pressure on ya, but I need t’ get off so badly right now it’s not even an OPTION. If you don’t wanna, then send someone expendable because I’m about ready to go CRAZY.”

Alastor’s ears twitched, turning himself into intangible shadow to slide out of Angel’s bed and over to the door. “I think you need to calm yourself,” he said, trying to get the heady scent out of his nose. “I won’t risk any harm to the fawn due to an overactive libido, and I most CERTAINLY will not have someone else up here without their intentions being known inside and out!”

He snapped his fingers, the remains of the goat vanishing as to avoid an unpleasant smell later. “Now, take a shower, I’ll have fresh bedthings brought up...maybe you’ll feel better with a clean nest, alright?”

To say Angel looked put out was akin to saying Husk looked hungover, but the spider just nodded, although made no move to follow Alastor’s suggestions. Alastor sighed and left the room, massaging his temple to stave off the migraine that his instincts and the room’s uncomplementry scents gave him as he headed downstairs to see what he could get from the meat locker. 

Marge was downstairs speaking to Charlie, the demon glancing up when Alastor made his way down. “...and Angel’s not wanting any visitors?” she asked Charlie.

“No,” Charlie lamented, wringing her hands. “He’s more temperamental too, and Alastor isn’t much better. I had to MAKE him go out for some personal time earlier, and he brought in a half-dead animal, got the blood EVERYWHERE…”

“I’m assuming it was for Angel then,” Marge said, leaning her weight on her cane with a thoughtful look. “Unsurprising, breeding spiders are quite demanding after all.” She saw Alastor’s ear flick from the corner of her eye. “Especially when it comes to food and sex.”

Charlie blinked. “...sex?”

“Oh yes, pregnancy hormones will do that. It’s perfectly natural, though it differs depending on demon breed. We should thank our lucky stars he’s not an incubus or it’s likely you’d be housing a harem to keep him satisfied.”

“...that tells me more about my mom than I ever wanted to know…”

“Regardless,” Marge continued, “spiders are notorious for eating a mate that does not keep them satisfied. Messy business.” Her lips twitched when a red blur bolted back up the stairs. “And that is how you fix pent-up sexual frustration on both ends.”

Charlie looked between her and Alastor’s point of retreat, her eyes narrowing. “...how did you-”

“Oh please, the deer is hardly the first overprotective father I’ve had to underhandedly convince to satisfy a mate. I can remember when your father would hardly BREATHE in Lilith’s direction, let alone -”

“OKAY THANK YOU, WE’LL SEE YOU NEXT WEEK!” Charlie yelped, her face red as she turned to the door. “Geeze, why…”

Marge snorted, heading out of the Hotel and passing Charlie a slip of paper en route. “Word of advice, mix this up and spray everyone with once a day at least until after the baby is born,” she said. “It’ll neutralize any of your scents that might set either of them off as being a threat. Especially the cat at the bar.”

Charlie nodded, taking it. “Thank you,” she sighed, leaning against the door frame. “...WHY did I decide to house a pregnant demon again…?”

“Hell if I know,” Marge replied. “Make sure the two idiots upstairs stay fed, just leave any food at the top of his territory floor. I’d advise personally going up there unless you want to end up a part of his hunt.”

“Noted. Thanks again, Marge.” Charlie showed her out before closing the doors. “...alright, Hotel meeting everyone, we’ve gotta discuss the next phase of this pregnancy thing!”

“Can this meeting take place with alcohol?”

“...y’know what, Husk? Yes. Yes it can.”

  
  


Charlie followed Marge’s advice, having taken the scent neutralizing solution to overlord Velvet on Doctor Margeritha’s orders to make. The demoness had been more than delighted to take on the job in exchange for all the details she was missing.

“Well, it’s not something we just want to get out, you see…”

Velvet waved her hand with an exaggerated ‘pshhh’, bottling up her solution. “Puh-leeze, Val tells me and Vox EVERYTHING,” she said. “We don’t tell others, though, Three V’s honor. But Val’s been a drama queen with his favorite whore out of the picture. Like a little baby boy waiting for his teddy bear to come back from the wash. Cute, but annoying, y’know?”

“...uh, not really -”

“But enough about Val being a baby, how’s THE baby doing?” She finished ladeling the bottles out, capping them off. “How far along is it? Do you know what it is yet? Any names?”

Charlie sighed, sitting back. “We’re almost five months in,” she said. “No one knows what it is yet, and neither of them have said anything to us about names. It’s healthy though, we know that. Everything’s just...taking a toll on instincts and all.”

“Wow, don’t I know all about THAT,” Velvet chirped. “I’ve gotten SO many orders from animal demons who want to put a cap on their instincts. It’s silly, they should just let them run amok, you know?”

“Uh…”

“Like Val! He’s a crossbreed, you know, a moth and a louse! He wears shades all the time so he’s not distracted by lights, and he sometimes forgets he doesn’t HAVE to suck blood to eat.”

“Oh wow, that’s...more than I needed to know about him -”

“You know he keeps Angel extra happy because of the whole spiders-eat-moths-thing, right? It’s kinda funny!” She giggled. “So I can only imagine that it’s doing something CRAZY with deer instincts and all.” Her smile went mischievous. “Lemme guess. Mama spider needs to be satisfied?” 

“......”

“Nahhh, you don’t need to tell me, your face says it all.” Velvet pushed the box of finished anti-scent solution to Charlie. “Soooo, here you go! Come back for more if you need it, and tell Angel I said hi!”

Charlie took the box with a weary smile. “I will,” she promised. “Um...pretty sure Angel’s indisposed right now, so...tell Val he’s okay.”

“Will do!”

Charlie headed back to the Hotel, wondering when her life would ever get back to some semblance of normal.

  
  


Almost two weeks straight of diligently spraying themselves to cover their scents, sending up food to the increasingly-hostile territory that was the Hotel’s entire fourth floor, and Charlie renovating a spare ground-floor room to be soundproof for Husk to use due to his excessively sensitive hearing, things suddenly seemed to go quiet.

It was an almost tangible lightness in the air that everyone woke up to, and nobody wanted to tip the jenga tower by doing anything to disturb it. Breakfast and chores were taken care of in reverent silence and easy breathing, until around eleven-thirty when Husk’s ear rotated hearing footsteps on the stairs.

“Please tell me everyone got th’ spray,” he hissed to the others, who nodded hurriedly and then remained still as Alastor came into view.

Alastor looked like he only threw on clothes as an afterthought to stepping out of the fourth floor and didn’t even bother with shoes. Charlie checked ‘Alastor has deer hooves’ off her list of things she didn’t need or want to know about anyone, seeing that Alastor’s hair was unbrushed, he’d definitely lost weight, and his smile was almost not even there. A little more jarring was the fact that his antlers were extended out and looking to stay that way.

Everyone held their breath as he made his way to the cafe area and sat down hard on the first seat, his body slumping almost weakly.

“....could I trouble anyone for coffee.”

Niffty had it out in less than a minute, a large mug of Mississippi mud that Alastor grabbed and tanked back without any consideration for the temperature, draining it in one go. He set the mug down and heaved a sigh, his expression slightly less delirious. 

Charlie mustered up the courage to step over, though within a few arms’ distance away. “...you doing okay, Al?” she asked. “Hungry?”

Alastor made a noise that sounded like a broken laugh track on a mostly-melted record. “...dear, I am FAMISHED,” he said, his smile weakened and shaky. “...but I’m simply too tired to really care.” He didn’t react when Niffty whisked his mug away to refill it. “I couldn’t even make the trek to the meat locker, how silly is that?”

“Not silly at all,” Charlie said placatingly as Niffty hurried in with more coffee. “Finish your coffee, and the kitchen is all yours. We’ll stay out of your hair for a while.”

“Oh, what a lovely little peach you are,” Alastor said, taking up his coffee again. “I’ll have to thank you somehow when I can actually remember my own name!”

Charlie gestured behind her back for everyone to clear away from anywhere near the kitchen. “You do that,” she said. “We’ll keep an eye on things now. You just eat.”

Alastor drank more of his coffee before standing up again. “And eat I shall, since I was not eaten myself!” He made his way to the kitchen, and Charlie hurriedly vacated the cafe and shut the door behind her.

“We’ll just...let him have the kitchen,” she told the others. “All of it. Whatever he wants, we can just restock later.” She took out her phone. “We’ll make due with takeout in the meantime. Any requests?”

Husk took a swig of bourbon. “For th’ fact that ‘I was not eaten’ means he sexually satisfied someone to be erased from my brain,” he said. Vaggie gave him a sour look while Charlie closed her eyes and prayed to Satan for strength.

“Food, Husk, not a goddamn miracle.”


	9. Planning for the Future, Even the Unknown

Month six began with some semblance of order finally brought back to the Hotel and its occupants, including the parents-to-be.

The fourth floor was still off-limits to most, even with the scent-dampening spray; if Angel wanted to see anyone, he had to get up and see them himself.

It wasn’t that much of an effort; his fatigue had faded after his influx of hormones shot his libido through the roof, and the resulting endorphins kept him wired for days after. A short trip out of his room to allow Niffty to finally satisfy her itch to clean did wonders for him, happy to be stretching his legs beyond anything sexual.

Alastor, contrarywise, had to go down for a hard nap after eating, something that usually only his eldritch heat put him through. His shadows kept a diligent watch on the spider as Angel took a careful walk around the Hotel, having a secondary eye on him from Charlie.

“I should replace the bannisters on the stairs,” she fretted, having grabbed a pen and notepad after her third observation to take notes. “And do double maintenance on the elevator! I should put in another elevator too in case that one breaks, put everything breakable up safe, get rid of ALL cords -”

“Hey, Charlie, calm down,” Angel said, somewhat amused. Two of his hands rested on his swollen abdomen, feeling the gentle consistent thrum of eldritch aura underneath that was always a comfort to him. “We’ve still got another month or two...and bold o’ you to assume I’m even lettin’ ‘em outta my arms until they can walk.”

Charlie nibbled the end of her pen. “Maybe,” she said, “but still, the stairs themselves make me nervous…”

“Al will probably have a shadow permanently posted right next to ‘em,” Angel said. “Relax, Charlie, it’ll be fine. I’m less concerned about what’s in her than what’s out there.” He glanced out the window with a sigh; he hadn’t been outside in months. “But even then, me an’ Al won’t let anything happen.”

“None of us will,” Charlie said firmly. “Hellborn are rare enough as it is...like little miracles even in Hell.” A flicker of red danced over her eyes. “And I can say with full confidence that if anything happened to your baby, I wouldn’t stop you or Al from doing whatever you wanted to even the sin.”

Angel nodded. “Good answer,” he said, standing with a wince. “Ugh, I need to get used t’ walkin’ again, my back is killin’ me…”

“Well don’t strain yourself,” Charlie said, ushering him to sit back down. “Take it easy, alright? I’ll get you some coffee.” She hurried to the kitchen to get it going, making sure to keep dairy away and plenty of sugar on hand. She put a few raw eggs in a bowl for Angel to snack on, and then carried the tray back out to the lobby, seeing Angel browsing through his phone, brow furrowed slightly. “You okay?”

Angel hummed in a neutral response. “Yeah, it was some messages from Val,” he replied, getting his coffee.

Charlie frowned. “I hope he’s not bothering you,” she said.

“No, it’s...he’s not botherin’ me, it’s just somethin’ we should’ve talked about earlier in th’ pregnancy before all my isolation started.” Angel took a sip of coffee, sitting back hard. “Or before Al got super territorial.”

“...do you mind if I ask what for?”

“It’s…personal, if y’ don’t mind…” Angel replied. “For now...I’ll let ya know about it maybe la-” He cut off with a gasp, dropping his coffee cup as all of his hand flew to his stomach. 

Charlie went on instant high alert, ready to call Marge, Alastor, ANYONE who she needed to at a moment’s notice. “Angel are you okay!? What do you need!? Who do you need-!?”

“Holy shit,” Angel breathed, his eyes wide. “Holy SHIT, Charlie, I think it just kicked!” He stared at his stomach for several long moments before he jumped. “Omigod it did it again!”

Charlie hopped in place, wanting so badly to feel for herself but also not wanting to lose a hand in the process. Angel fixed that for her, reaching out and grabbing her wrists with two of his hands and pressing them to his abdomen. Both of them waited with bated breaths for the longest time before a soft flutter beat against one of her hands. “....oh,” was all she could muster out.

Even with a small handful of Hellborn younger than her, Charlie had never been privy to being this close to a pregnant demon before, let alone feeling an unborn child kicking. It was surreal, almost alien to feel something not even born yet alive in there.

Angel looked torn between going to wake Alastor up and letting the deer sleep, settling on the latter; he’d demanded more than enough from Alastor as it was, and Alastor deserved the rest. He would gush over it later, even if he wanted Alastor to feel before the baby settled down again.

Still, getting a tangible feel of his baby began to pull his guard back up, something Charlie seemed to pick up on as she withdrew her hands and took some respectable space to finish her coffee. She kept an eye on Angel as he decided to go back to his bedroom nest, asking Niffty to send up some food later.

Sometimes this baby business wasn’t ALL bad.

Nope, nevermind, babies and their parents were Hell for the Hellbound.

Alastor was ancy just a DAY after his recovery nap, Angel Dust had retreated back into his solitary nesting to brood, good feelings over. Niffty had threatened to revolt if Alastor brought in another mess like last time, so bringing in half-dead kills was out of the question. It was kill outside and bring in the spoils after tidying up, or getting it pre-butchered, since Charlie explicitly FORBADE a live demon or beast being killed under her roof.

“You might wanna loosen up on at least ONE of the rules,” Husk put in pragmatically, keeping his voice down and scent-blocking spray on hand, just in case. “Al looks like he’s going to lose it.”

“No,” Charlie said firmly, crossing her arms. “I understand that Angel has dietary needs, but a live kill isn’t necessary for it. I already gave Alastor permission to go out and do what he needs to do. He’ll just have to learn to adapt.”

Husk stared at her like she had implored to God Themself for a Heaven/Hell mixer party, the idea was so ridiculous. “Al and ‘adapting’ isn’t really…” He gestured for a word. “He’s…”

“A dusty old relic stuck perpetually in the Twenties,” Vaggie finished for him. “Hell, Vox manifested in the Fifties but still managed to evolve over time-”

“Yeah, probably don’t invoke anything with THAT name,” Husk hissed at her. “Still, suddenly asking Al to change isn’t going to lead to anything good.” 

“Well too bad. He’s going to have to change anyway. He’s going to be a parent, that’s not just something you can gloss over!”

“.....kinda is, probably why a few of these bastards are down here.”

Charlie gave Husk a glare. “Not in here, it won’t happen! He’ll adapt. No alternative!”

Vaggie nibbled her lip, wondering where this cut of grit was when Alastor showed up in the first place. At least she was using her powers for a good cause.

It might have been more than a little hypocritical, but when Alastor came downstairs after a food run to Angel and asked Husk for a glass of rum, Husk refused. 

“You can’t drink away yer problems, Al.” 

The look Alastor gave him could curdle milk. “Pot meeting kettle, Husker?” he asked, his smile twitching. 

“Problem recognizing problem,” Husk shot back, instead fixing him up a Roy Rogers. “I get it, yer ancy an’ itching for some normalcy. But keepin’ your wits about you is th’ smart thing to do right now.”

Alastor sighed, leaning his head on his hand tiredly. “I’m past the point of wishing to do the ‘smart’ thing,” he replied, taking the nonalcoholic drink regardless. “I’m starving, I’m exhausted BECAUSE I’m starving, and I’m going to be a father in perhaps less than a month, which will leave me with even LESS time to get a decent enough meal in me.” His hand tightened around the glass, almost with enough pressure to crack it. “...it’s too much.”

Husk shot him a look, eyes narrowing. “‘Too much’,” he recanted back, bordering on mockery. “Greater men than you have managed to balance out work and parenthood PLENTY, an’ they didn’t have goddamn voodoo shit to help ‘em. So what’s this REALLY about?”

“That IS what this is about!” Alastor snapped, his smile twitching in a threat to fall. “This is too much! Too much changing, all at once! And once the fawn is born, even moreso!” He gestured enough to slosh his drink out of the glass. “I can’t be a FATHER, Husk! Hell already has enough fun painting targets over a sinner overlord’s back, just how much bigger is that target going to be to encompass my offspring!? Until it’s old enough to defend itself, it’ll need twenty-four-seven care and surveillance! I can’t even step out for a few hours to hunt or broadcast or even pick up a goddamn coffee before every threat to MY afterlife is RIGHT at theirs!”

Husk calmly grabbed a cloth to wipe up the spilled drink. “Congratulations, Al,” he said, “you just broke parenthood anxiety down to the barest essentials.” He tossed the cloth aside, giving Alastor a firm glare. “You’re not special, Al. HUMAN parents deal with this shit. And THEIR kids aren’t born with demonic power.” 

He sighed. “Look. Just by being Hellborn, this kid's gonna have SOME kind of power. But yeah, I’ll bet even Charlie can tell you she was born basically helpless until she learned how to use ‘em. Same shit here, and for living kids. Born without knowin’ how to lift their head. Dependent on parents for EVERYTHING. If we were up there an’ you knocked up some girl, it’d be the SAME DAMN WAY. But the difference is HERE, you’re th’ goddamn Radio Demon. So why the FUCK are you actin’ like YOU’RE th’ helpless one!?”

Husk grabbed the mostly-empty glass and dumped it over the rinser, refilling it with more cola and grenadine. “If anyone goes near that kid, they won’t just have you to deal with, y’know. They’ll have this entire Hotel, including th’ fuckin’ PRINCESS, there to make sure they don’t leave this place in any piece bigger than a snuff can. I’m even willin’ to put money on VALENTINO makin’ sure nothin’ happens to either Angel or th’ kid.” He slid over the glass to Alastor’s hand. “So get yer antlers outta th’ fence an’ focus on finding some balance. You won’t have as much time AFTER it’s born.”

Alastor delved into silence, contemplating his drink and taking his time finishing it before standing and walking out of the Hotel, all without a word.

Husk watched him leave, putting everything away before leaving the bar to talk to Charlie. HOPEFULLY he could convince her to loosen up at least some of her rules. Beelining for her office, he completely missed spotting Angel standing at the top of the stairs, having listened to everything for himself.

And Angel himself had his own balance to find.


	10. Parenting Advice From a Daddy Who Knows Best

Alastor wasn't back from his excursions until the crack of dawn, bringing with him a peace offering of expensive cuts from the butcher's for Angel to feed on. When he stepped into the Hotel, however, Charlie was the one to take the meat and exchange it out for a note from the front desk notepad.

"You need to respond to this ASAP," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. Alastor stared down at her with a mixture of confusion and a twinge of EXTREME irritation that someone had taken food from him, even if it wasn't his own meal, and decided to wisely keep his mouth shut as he looked at the note she'd given him.

It was a message from Valentino asking for his time and attendance, as soon as possible, just as Charlie had said. There HAD to be more for her to insist on meeting Valentino of all demons AND take over food delivery to Angel, and Alastor was torn between ignoring the pimp’s summons and the sheer curiosity of it all.

He decided on the lesser of two evils, and turned on heel to walk out of the Hotel and make his way to the Porn Studio.

Alastor absolutely hated the place, if not for the gaudiness of it all, then for the sheer lack of respect the tenants had for personal space. Though he hadn’t been around that much since beginning his relationship with Angel Dust, the spider made mention that the beaus of the workers were completely off-limits.

Not that it made him feel all that much better, if he were being honest.

To top it off, he was already instinctively distrustful of Valentino, let alone simply disliking the demon as a rule. But if Valentino needed a word with him, it could only mean Angel was the subject.

Wonderful. The one thing missing from this sheer agony of impending fatherhood was a territorial war.

He grimaced as he stepped into the building, walking up to the reception desk to announce his presence, only for the receptionist to point to a side elevator silently. Fine and dandy, the less he had to say to anyone, the better. He walked into the elevator, standing in the middle without touching anything as it took him up to the penthouse in all its red velvet and velour seats and gold trimming glory.

A soft chiming ‘ding’ and the doors opened into Valentino’s overly-decorated penthouse that smelled of cologne and sweet tobacco. Not unpleasant, but still enough of a reminder of whom Alastor was visiting.

Valentino was seated on a loveseat, looking expectant, which never boded well for anyone on the receiving end of it. It usually meant he had a plan, and his plans were, to his credit, precise and effective. Still not good for him.

Alastor kept his distance, standing across the fine Persian rug opposite to Valentino. “Well, I’m here,” he stated. “I’m afraid Charlie didn’t exactly give me any details concerning your request for my audience!”

“Because I told her not to,” Valentino replied, fishing out a cigarette and lighter. “You’d take any reason not to make the trip up here, and I didn’t wanna risk that.” He lit his cigarette up, taking a drag. “Sit.”

“I’ll stand, thank you -”

“SIT, Alastor.” Valentino’s eyes narrowed behind his shades. “This is gonna take awhile, and I fuckin’ HATE it when company stands around. I made sure no one talked to you, everything’s clean in here, so remember your goddamn manners and SIT.”

Alastor tightened his hands around his microphone, but gave the chair next to him a quick look before sitting down on it. The fact that it was comfortable didn’t help ease his already-shot nerves or thinned patience. Valentino eased up his glare before tenting his fingertips of his secondary set of hands and taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Have you and Angel Dust talked about what was going to happen after the kid’s born?”

Alastor narrowed his eyes, his ears flicking. “What does it matter to you?”

“PLENTY, don’t pretend it doesn’t.” Valentino let out a forceful exhale of smoke. “Let’s start with the basics. What are YOU gonna do when it’s born?”

“...I can’t say I thought about it much -”

“Surprise, surprise!” Valentino sassed. “Another surprise -Angel HAS thought about it. Extensively. Probably put more thought into it than he did picking out a name for the little spawn -”

“ _ Fawn. _ ”

“ -whatever. Point is, you’re doing an AWFUL lot of thinkin’ only about yourself, YOUR territory, YOUR fawn-spawn, which is all fine and dandy, and I GET that. I’m more than a little territorial and protective of my babies here. But I don’t stifle out what they do in their free time. That’s not their payroll, and I don’t have a say in it. Even my contracted workers, whose work names I literally own, have their own business to take care of, and as long as it doesn’t interfere with MY business, that’s all fine.”

“Is there a point to this?” Alastor asked through his teeth.

“YES, you irritating asshole,” Valentino spat back. “Did it completely go over your head that for the past five months, Angel Dust has not performed his contracted work?”

Alastor bared his teeth. “He’s PREGNANT.”

“Like that MATTERS. No caveat against that in his contract, just like there’s no caveat against him having a relationship outside of work, as long as he DOES work. I don’t think you understand just how much leeway I’ve given the both of you because of this whole mess. Relationship with another overlord or not, the fact of the matter is, he is contracted to ME, and I take priority. This has been something that was understood, up until five months ago.”

Valentino took a pause to finish off his cigarette and grab a drink from the table next to him.

“I got a call from Angel last night,” he said, his voice unusually tempered for what his eyes were conveying. “Just started talkin’ about you. YOUR worries. YOUR struggles. How tired YOU were. How much things were changing for YOU.” He tanked back half of his drink in one go. “Then he asked me what it would take to release him of his contract so that he could take care of YOUR kid and YOU could get back to YOUR life as seamlessly as possible.”

He polished off the rest of his drink to let that sink in for a moment.

“I know the workings of a simple prostitute don’t seem too important enough to think about, Alastor. After all, what’s a whore to an overlord? My personal self exempted, they’re my literal bread and butter and my own sugarbabies. But that fact does remain.” He gave Alastor a glare over his shades. “Angel Dust is my top earner. My most popular name. And it’s not even a secret that he’s my favorite. So to hear that he wants to beg out of his contract, that he wants to give up EVERYTHING because YOU don’t wanna pull your own weight in child rearing...that creates a few PROBLEMS, you see.” 

Alastor’s eyes flashed, a shriek of radio feedback squealing through the air. “ExCUSE me!?” he snapped. “I have been pulling my weight PLENTY in making sure this fawn comes out healthy and happy -”

“And what of Angel then, you damn deer!?” Valentino hissed back. “Keeping him safe and happy ONLY for the sake of the kid? What happens AFTER it’s born then? You feel your work is done and you pass off the REAL work to Angel so you can get back to your outdated excuse of an afterlife?”

He fished out another cigarette, his thumb flicking the lighter with excessively agitated force. 

“I’m hard on Angel Dust because soft souls end up erased, especially in such a highly-lucrative place like the Lust Circuit. It’s made even worse that he’s a wild card of a kid who likes to run around like the born-and-bred mafia boy he is, and pick the goddamn Radio Demon of all people to have a relationship with. But I made allowances for all of that because I know he’ll only jump to something worse if I didn’t. Can’t say I’m unhappy with where those allowances took him, and I know he’s safe with you, in the Hotel.

“But,” he added, gesturing at Alastor with his cigarette, “a BABY is a game-changer. Hellborn are rare and some demons far more foul than us will take it as an invitation to get a trophy. Not something a basic-bitch demon can handle alone. It’ll need protection from an overlord.” He took a deliberate drag of his cigarette, keeping eye contact with Alastor. “Who that overlord is, remains to be seen.”

Alastor felt a snarl rip from his throat as he half-stood from the chair, his antlers cracking as they extended out by at least two points. “You have SOME nerve -!”

“So do you, Bambi, sit the fuck down.” Valentino flicked some ash from his cigarette. “Angel may be your boyfriend, mate, whatever, but contractually he’s MY responsibility. That includes whatever happy accidents come his way. But neither of us are THAT perverse that we would RATHER a child be around our particular brand of entertainment, wherein lies one of the bigger issues.” He took another drag. 

“Since he doesn’t want the kid around the Studio, understandably, he can’t work if he’s takin’ care of it full time. So, in that vein of things, he’s asked to be released, and offered just about anything save for that old first-born clichè. And to be honest, if it were anyone else BUT him, I’d have him sign his life ANCHORED to the Studio for such a request. But seein’ how it’s Angel, and you’re YOU, I’m a bit at a loss.”

He ground out the remains of his cigarette, his primary arms resting over the back of the loveseat while the secondary pair’s hands laced in his lap. “Considering you know fully well the necessity of a good pecking order in your own little circle of friends, comrades, and contracted help, I’m here to ask you what I think I should do. With consideration of Angel being a full-time parent while you return to...whatever the fuck it is you do...and how he should make up his contracted time lost in pregnancy and child-rearing.”

Alastor’s claws pressed into the arm of the chair, feeling his smile twitch into some facsimile of a scowl. “And why did Angel not come to ME about this first!?” he demanded.

“Gee, why doncha ask YOURSELF that, Al?” Valentino sniped back. “Maybe because that little imbalance of power you two have goin’ on there, paired with the fact that he’s so hormonally wracked with guilt with his goddamn bleeding heart that he’s AFRAID to talk to you! I mean, he’s ONLY carrying your hellspawn, having his insides rearranged to shit, and he’s due for actually birthing it in the next few weeks fully expecting to be the sole caretaker while you work your bread-winning ways and he should only be GRATEFUL for it.”

The two lapsed into a silence thick with enough tension to taste between them, before Alastor forced his hands to relax as he stood up, giving Valentino a curt nod. “...thank you for your time,” he said curtly before turning on heel and walking out of the penthouse, fully expecting Valentino to say something about his abrupt departure.

But he didn’t.

Alastor bypassed the front entrance of the Hotel, instead shadowing himself up to Angel’s room, standing at the side of the bed to just watch. Angel had taken to sleeping on his side, he noticed, it being more comfortable to accommodate his large abdomen. It could be about two weeks, or even tomorrow that Angel would be ready to give birth, and then they would have their fawn at last.

A child had never been in his plans, but he was going to be a father soon. He didn’t even like the idea of children, but he found himself thrilled at the prospect of finally seeing it. HOLDING it. He was actively looking forward to having his progeny.

He quietly reached out and pressed his hand against Angel’s abdomen, feeling out the eldritch aura with his own and almost jumping back when he felt a kick flutter under his hand. His ears pricked straight up, staring at where the fawn kicked. 

The last time it apparently happened, Angel had attempted to recreate it for him, only for the fawn to not wish to cooperate. So FEELING his fawn, physically, for the first time was...an experience.

The idea now of going back about his regular business, back to the point of having to schedule his time just to spend with Angel, was not something he felt was possible anymore. A scheduled relationship was one thing, but this?

Angel wouldn’t be able to teach the fawn certain things, like form control, power output that came from an eldritch makeup. And what if it took more after him in ways of animal aspects? Angel was about as subtle as a firecracker next to an open flame, and knew little about how to stay hidden or become the bigger threat.

Granted, Angel could teach it how to shoot, but the spider had no patience for hunting. And hunting was a rite of passage for the LeBlanc family, a much nicer one than the rite of passage of being a made man for the mafia, anyway. 

And COOKING. 

SO many things to really drive home in the formative years.

Formative years he would be missing out on if things just picked right back up where he left off five months ago.

Alastor pinched the bridge of his nose; for VALENTINO of all demons to be the one to point that out...downright cringe-worthy.

If anything, he had to commend the pimp for his patience in all of this. Valentino was fully within his rights to take Angel out of the Hotel and back to the Studio. It was common knowledge that Angel was Valentino’s favorite and could rarely deny him anything so long as his life wasn’t in danger. 

Letting Angel go was another matter entirely. Paired with the fact that Angel genuinely liked his job for the most part and was up for negotiations if need be, and there was really no reason WHY he had to be let go from his contract.

Alastor was pulled from his musings when Angel shifted on the bed and blinked his eyes blearily. “...Al?”

“It’s me,” Alastor confirmed. “Sorry I woke you.”

“Nah,” Angel muttered, waving his hand and shifting again with a slight wince. “Baby shifting woke me up, it does that.” He turned onto his back and sighed. “What’s up?”

Alastor drummed his fingers on the bed, not wanting to just SAY he was sent to Valentino. No need to stress Angel out more than he already was. “I was...just thinking about what we do after it’s born,” he said, keeping his tone neutral. “It’s at most only two weeks.”

Angel didn’t meet his eyes. “...well...you got work t’ do, so -”

“As do you, Alastor interjected. “So I think a schedule of sorts should at least be drawn out before we have to scramble to make one up. That’s of course leaving at least a month to get to know how to actually pull off this parenting...thing.”

THAT, he saw, seemed to be the right thing to say, seeing Angel visibly relax and, albeit tiredly, smile a little and give his undivided attention to whatever it was Alastor might have been able to come up with.

_ ‘Note to self,’ _ Alastor thought, watching Angel rummage around the bedside table drawer for his ‘planning notebook’,  _ ‘thank Valentino somehow later.’ _


	11. Overdue for Some Sign of the End, and What An End It Is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey look, progress! :D

"I swear to everything unholy, if I don't start labor in th' next couple hours, I'm gonna lose my fuckin' mind."

Charlie and Alastor winced in sympathy; they were on the starting week of Month Six, past the expected due date, and Angel was uncomfortable and cranky with the fawn doing short bouts of squirming before going quiet again. 

_ "You don't rush these things," _ Marge had said when Alastor inquired about inducing labor.  _ "If it wants some extra incubation time, let it have it." _ She then left after Angel swore in Italian and threw a pillow in her direction. Alastor went upstairs with coffee and meat -beef this time- and sighed at the frustrated growling coming from under the sheets Angel had bundled himself with.

"Angel, I have food."

"Not hungry."

"Non-negotiable." Alastor walked over, setting the tray down. "You need to eat, even if it's just a little." He knew he was risking a venomous bite at least and a missing finger at most, but he refused to let Angel suffer long-term. "Just eat something, and finish the coffee, okay?"

Angel grumbled, but conceded and sat up to get a few mouthfuls of food chased with a cup of coffee. He leaned back against his pillow-walled headboard to avoid the food coming back up and sighed, exhaustion permeating every inch of him.

Alastor was worried, but he tried not to let it show. ‘You don’t rush these things’ or not, it seemed like every day past Angel’s due date seemed to drain the spider further and further. It was worrisome and nerve-wracking. They had everything ready and prepared, including a room, amenities, and a name, all that was missing was the baby itself.

Angel shifted on the bed, unable to get comfortable, especially with a constant cramp that seemed to envelop his entire lower half. Despite what he was expected to do as far as birthing went, his mind kept running the gamut of anywhere between the baby clawing its way out like an Alien chest-burster to his entire body being sucked into a void like a black hole for the baby to be spawned. Great for the imagination, not so great for his mood or his nerves, or anything else. 

He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat much, and he was SO damn close to asking Al to just rip him open and take it out manually.

So damn tired.

Enough so that he didn’t quite hear that Alastor was trying to talk to him until he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“ -el. Angel!”

“Shit, what?!” Angel snapped, his mood fraying fast at the jostling. He glared at Alastor, only to see the deer’s eyes trained to the bed, ears pinned almost flat against his head. He followed Alastor’s line of sight and saw a large wet stain tinted red spreading over the bed from between his legs. 

“...oh.”

Alastor looked between Angel, the stain, and the door before summoning his microphone, all but shouting into it. “Charlie, call Marge! I think it’s happening now!”

_ “WHAT!? Are you sure!?” _

“CALL MARGE!” Alastor barely registered Charlie squeaking at the loud sharp tone he used, putting his microphone aside and trying to fight back initial panic. “Okay, alright,” he said, keeping himself talking to stay in the moment. He thought back to the books, thinking about what he needed to do. 

Because of the nature of their animal attributes plus it being eldritch, a familiar, secure place was a must. Moving Angel from the nest he created and that Alastor territorially marked would be a hard no. He’d told Charlie to call for Marge, but he didn’t know if he could bring himself to have her anywhere near Angel right now. NO ONE could be near Angel right now.

That revelation left him with another; that he was responsible for making sure the fawn was born.

Shit.

Leaving Angel to it alone wasn’t an option, he thought, pulling his jacket off and rolling his sleeves up. He’d read the books and seen births before, alive with farm animals. The prime concern now was Angel, though.

Angel was already exhausted, and the pain of labor was sure to drain what little energy he had left. He only prayed that labor would be fast.

“This fuckin’ sucks on SO many levels!” Angel groaned, hissing in pain as he readjusted himself, shoving the damp sheets away from him and putting a hand between his legs. “...that’s new. No wonder I kept gettin’ cramps…”

Alastor tried not to look, already knowing that Angel’s body had been under reconstruction to form a birth canal. He made haste in getting water and towels ready from the in-suite bathroom, setting everything up within arm’s reach before gingerly helping Angel remove his dampened and stained clothes. The tint of red with speckles of black staining Angel’s fur, however, would have to wait.

The blur of time dragging on as Angel breathed and whimpered and readjusting his body for some tiny modicum of comfort, the demon having sweat through his fur, wailed on about bleeding and leaking  _ something _ everywhere, and lamented that there was nowhere else in the room that was comfortable enough to even attempt moving to though in a pinch, he would have suggested the bathtub.

Too little, too late, was a passing thought from both; Angel was already a mess, and although a cold shower to rinse his fur out was tempting, it would be even more tempting of fate that he would birth as soon as he was in.

By the fifth hour in, Angel was even more of a mess.

“I can’t fuckin’ do this anymore!” he cried, small tears dripping down his face from all eight eyes, his fur spots looking almost grey from exhaustion and dehydration. “I can’t, Al, just fuckin’ cut it out!”

“You CAN,” Alastor told him, putting a hand on Angel’s abdomen, feeling a pulse of eldritch aura and a squirming of the mass inside. He felt a flare of his own eldritch power wanting his progeny out and safe in his hands. This was going to be difficult enough for Angel to power through, the pain and exhaustion considered, but for the betterment of both, Alastor would do what he could.

He ignored the sogginess of the birthing fluids on the bed as he shifted himself to kneel between Angel’s legs. He pulled one of Angel’s legs over his shoulder, then extended an arm out to Angel. “Here,” he said. “Squeeze it, bite it, break it in half, I don’t care, but we’re getting our fawn out now.”

Even with Angel’s tired whine of protest, the spider latched onto the arm with all six hands and squeezed tightly. “Al -”

“Three tries,” Alastor said. “Give it three tries, and then I’ll try to cut it out, okay?”

With that compromise, Angel just let out a groan and nodded before bearing down, pushing through and screaming when he felt a definite hard shift of the baby being pushed out. “GODDAMN IT!” he screamed, his claws tearing into Alastor’s arm before he collapsed back. “No no no fuck that!”

“Two more tries!” Alastor coaxed, caring nothing for his arm being mangled. “Come on, Angel, just two more, but give it all you’ve got!” He didn’t make mention of the absolutely grotesque view of what exactly it was he was seeing that was attempting to come out. “Come on!”

“AH, FUCK YOU, AL!” Angel wailed, gritting his teeth tightly as he bore down again. “I SWEAR TO FUCKING SATAN I’M NEVER LETTING YOU TOUCH ME AGAIN! FUCK YOU AND FUCK YOUR DEER COCK!”

“Fair enough,” Alastor couldn’t help but mutter; if THIS is what came from further copulation, he wouldn’t want this inflicted on Angel again; for now though, he could plainly see something coming out, and felt his heart leap to his throat. “Keep going!”

“FUCK YOU!”

He didn’t have a proper comeback for that, numb to the absolute ruin to his arm as Angel seemed to feel that easing up would be counterproductive and continued to push through profanity vile enough to make a wrath demon flinch. After a last hoarse scream from Angel and a hard spasm of his body, Al’s free hand managed to catch what had finally come out.

As Angel collapses back on the bed, limp, gasping for breath, and shaking from exhaustion and pain, Alastor stared in wonder at the fawn in his hand.

And it WAS a fawn.

In a manner of speaking.

A fawn’s body and legs curled up in his hand, so small that Alastor was almost concerned. He kept staring, making sense of what he was seeing was not actually much of an average ‘fawn’. The legs and body were fawnish, black in color with white fawn spots, but the neck was slightly elongated, and if he was seeing things correctly…

There was a torso where a head should be. But no real visible head. Just a torso with two sets of arms.

Alastor knew eldritch shapes could be off, but this was...bizarre. He was grateful Angel was taking recovery time so he could process this, but after a moment and a quick count, he realized.

Four deer legs.

Four arms. 

Eight limbs, like Angel.

Well and dandy, he thought, before feeling a brief lurch at the fact that it hadn’t moved yet. 

“...Al…?” Angel murmured tiredly. “...I don’t hear nothin’...is...oh god, is it -” Just as his voice reached a tone of panic, Alastor felt the fawn squirm in his hands, the legs making short kicks and the arms curling in with tiny hands grasping for anything to hold onto. And from the bottom of the torso came a soft, very human-sounding cry.

“Oh thank fuck,” Angel breathed as Alastor took a peruse to see where or how the fawn was functioning, taking note of two things. 

One, there was a soft void he recognized as eldritch darkness under the bottom of the torso where the cries were coming from. And second…

“...it’s a girl,” he told Angel, giving the spider a shaky smile as he gently and carefully held out his hand to show Angel. “...Fawn is a girl.”

Angel’s eyes seemed to struggle to focus, let alone comprehend what he was seeing. “...holy shit,” he muttered, staring at the baby. “...all that fuckin’ bullshit for this small thing?” His eyes watered despite his dehydration, a smile breaking out over his face as he reached out with a shaking hand to touch over the fawn’s back, hearing another soft cry. “Oh god, Al...how can something be ugly as sin but so fuckin’ beautiful?”

Alastor let out a soft bark of laughter, gently setting Fawn down on Angel’s chest, figuring the sweat wouldn’t do anything with the baby already covered in birthing mess. “I suppose that’s what the general idea of newborns is,” he replied, watching Fawn squirm around, the lower half of the torso ‘nosing’ around the furry chest. “Because that was a horrendously disgusting thing to witness.”

“...not even gonna say otherwise,” Angel conceded. “It FELT horrendously disgusting.” He looked down at Fawn, brow furrowing in concern. “....just wonderin’ how she’s gonna eat, I mean - oh.” He paused when Fawn made her way under his chest fluff, somewhere in that void being a mouth that latched onto what felt to be a nipple in the middle of his chest that this eldritch fuckery had decided was necessary. “....okay, no more questions.”

Alastor sat back, feeling the flesh and bones of his mangled arm slowly mending on their own as he watched over Angel and Fawn. For a soft moment, there was no care for the pain in his arm, the absolute soggy wreck of the bed, or the other two equally soggy and in need of baths.

Fawn was finally here.

* * *

Yes, I modeled Fawn after Modor from **The Ritual**. I figured that deer + eight limbs + eldritch bullshit would equal out to about...that. 

Plus, her torso would make it look like her limbs are hanging like a spider. 


	12. The Ancient and Noble Rite of the Godfather

“...okay, I’m gonna say it. What the hell is it?”

Angel threw Vaggie an exaggerated offended look, covering over the curled-up fawn on his chest with two hands. “SHE is the baby!” he huffed. “Did the tiny size not tip you off?”

Vaggie’s expression of confusion and mild repulsion didn’t really change, though Charlie’s eyes reached Disney princess levels of adoration and wonder as she hopped in place with barely-contained excitement, not bothered at all by the macabre form.

It was a day and a half since the birthing. Angel’s body had healed for the most part, but he was still ordered by Marge to remain in bed for the next week or so while his body returned to normal.

“It’s also for the spawn to properly stabilize that form,” she’d told the two parents before taking her leave; she had only come to make sure the birth was a success, considering no one would have been able to get into Angel’s room anyway. “She’ll need constant physical contact.” Angel was more than happy to abide by that. Off-putting as the image was, as soon as he had Fawn nursing on his chest, he would have fought off Heaven’s entire Extermination legion to not be separated from her. 

A long hot bath while Alastor disposed of the entire bed and brought in a new one had them both cleaned, and Angel could see that Fawn’s black fur was actually a very dark auburn color once dry. Her fawn spots were white and speckled over her body, including the torso-like head area. Both sets of arms and all four hands made a constant gravitation toward Angel’s chest fur, latching on for comfort even when she wasn’t feeding. Her deer legs seemed furrier than a normal fawn’s would, and on closer look, Angel saw that the cloven hooves were soft, and had two dull claws at the end.

“She got my goddamn feet,” he bemoaned, to Alastor’s amusement; Alastor would argue that she got a decent combination, but Angel wasn’t having it. 

Most interesting was where her actual face was. Under her top torso was a dark void that Angel couldn’t see into, even with adequate lighting in the room. He had ventured to slide a finger up to where he hoped the mouth was, and only felt a soft latching in the darkness. Surreal, but nothing too surprising.

“She’s bound by eldritch form,” Alastor explained to Charlie and Vaggie. “Taking attributes of deer and spider humanoidal forms would have been tricky even without a binding.” He shrugged, smiling at the small fawn. “When she’s older and has more acknowledgement of her abilities, she’ll be able to change her form as she wishes within reason...in this plane of existence, anyway.”

Vaggie massaged her temple. “...what does that even mean?”

Alastor’s smile sobered somewhat, putting a comforting hand on Angel’s shoulder. “Well,” he said, “when she reaches maturity, she can choose to either return to the void to become part of the eldritch collective, or remain here.” He’d already discussed this possibility with Angel, and knew that at the moment it was something unthinkable. “But for now, she’s dependent on us, like any other infant.”

“It’s the same with all Hellborn, Vaggie,” Charlie put in helpfully. “We’re born in a ‘true’ demon form, and when we get a sense of self, we can change to match those around us.” She poked her red cheek marks. “I made these myself when I was ten months old, and just never got rid of them!”

“Hey, I like th’ way she looks,” Angel defended. “She’ll be scarin’ everyone away!” He cooed at Fawn, letting a set of the hands grab at his own and pull a finger into that odd void. “Wonder how big she’ll get.”

“Another question for another day.” Alastor tucked Angel’s blanket in a bit more. “You need more rest.”

“And you need the stick out of your butt, let the others come see her!”

“No.”

“Goddamn it, Al.”

It took nearly a whole month for Alastor to let down his guard enough for other trusted people to come have a viewing of Fawn. Husk still doused himself in scent blocker just to be on the safe side, and didn’t make any comment on the baby’s odd looks at all. He just held her quietly, watching the torso-looking head-thing turn in his direction and make baby gurgling sounds at him.

He let the two sets of hands prod at him and grab handfuls of his fur for a solid ten minutes while everyone else watched -and Charlie took pictures- before speaking. 

“I swear to whatever god Al prays to, if anything happens to her, I’ll make ‘Nam look like Woodstock.”

_ ‘Good answer,’ _ was the thought of most everyone else, seeing the slight hackles Alastor had raised the whole time settle completely.

They were raised once again a couple days later when the front Hotel doors were unceremoniously opened (despite having been spell-locked by Alastor against unscheduled visitors) and Valentino walked in carrying three handfuls of bags.

“Okay, it’s been a goddamn month, let me see my Angelcake!” he demanded of Charlie, who was torn on how to properly placate the irate overlord before Angel walked out of the elevator, a cozy sling crossed over his front holding Fawn to him.

“FINALLY,” Angel breathed, hurrying over and taking one of the bags, opening it and pulling out an entire strawberry chiffon cake, sitting himself at the bar and digging right in with a completely indecent moan. “Fuckin’ Christ, you’re a lifesaver, Val!”

“It’s what I do,” Valentino replied dryly, setting the rest of his bags down. “Has Bambi not been feeding you properly?”

“Excuse YOU,” Alastor huffed, stepping closer to Angel almost possessively, “I feed him plenty!”

Angel gave him a sidelong glare and elbowed his side non-too-gently. “Al, I’ve told you for weeks that I need somethin’ that isn’t rare-cooked meat. I need SWEETS.”

“Angel dear, it’s for Fawn’s sake, you know that-” He was cut off with a fork poised between his eyes.

“Look buddy, between th’ two of us, you’re the one with natural nipples, so until you have Fawn latch on for a go to see what happens, you let me eat what I need,  _ capiche _ ?”

At Alastor’s silence, Angel turned back to his cake, another arm taking the large sugary chocolate iced coffee Valentino procured from another bag. Valentino shook his head with a tsk-tsk.

“The pregnancy didn’t teach you anything, Al? Just give ‘im what he asks for or risk losing an eye.”

“Oh, who asked you,” Alastor muttered. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Valentino rolled his eyes, sitting himself down on the bar chair, which might as well have been a footstool for his height. “Just here for a visit,” he said. “Hey, pussycat, hit me with a Manhattan.”

Husk’s feathers ruffled, but he grumpily began making the drink; rude as Valentino was, the louse tipped well. 

“A visit?”

“Yes, Bambi, a visit. I haven’t seen Angel in months, and still haven’t seen the baby in person.” He tossed a small roll of cash to Husk before taking up his drink, not even being subtle in trying to peer into the sling. Alastor growled softly, but left it be when Angel didn’t even react beyond shrugging through his eating.

“Not much different than th’ pictures I sent you-”

“You sent him pictures?!” Alastor hissed, but was promptly ignored.

“ - but if you really wanna see her…” Angel put the fork down, gently reaching into his sling to scoop Fawn into his hand and nudge her out. Fawn’s torso-head turned in the direction of a new person, the torso tipping back to give better view of the black void underneath. “Fawn, say hello to Mommy’s Daddy.”

Ignoring Alastor’s indignant protests over the moniker, Valentino was motionless as he had a stare-off (if it could even be called that) with the abomination before Fawn let out an ungodly screech that made Husk and Alastor’s ears flatten, then promptly went quiet and made grabby-hands with her lower set of hands.

“She likes fur,” Angel informed, not affected by the screeching in the least as he handed her over to Val’s waiting hands. “And she already has teeth somewhere up in there. Don’t leave her open an’ uncovered, she’s gotta be covered somehow, all cozy-like.”

“I got it, I got it,” Valentino replied, very aware that both Alastor and Husk looked ready to rend his flesh at any wrong move. “Not my first rodeo with kids.” He held Fawn’s body with two hands, pressing her up to his furry collar, watching the baby snuggle in, clutching at the fur with all four hands. Angel cooed and went for his phone to take a picture while Val kept his focus on the baby, figuring that making eye contact with either the deer or the cat would be an invitation to attack. 

“This is soooo precious!” Angel murmured to himself as he took a few pictures. “This is going on the Studio’s Instasin page!”

“Don’t you dare!” the other three men hissed. 

“...you guys are like...zero fun.”

Alastor gave Angel a humorless and weary smile. “If you think for one moment that putting my fawn’s image on a...a  _ porn studio’s _ media page is ‘fun’...!”

“Calm your tits, Al, jeeze…” Angel scrolled through the pictures, putting filters galore on them before saving them. “I was just joking. I’m putting them on MY Instasin!”

“Angel!”

“No stoppin’ that, Val, sorry.”

“.....no you’re not.” Valentino looked down at the fawn-thing almost lost in the fluffiness of his coat collar. “...so...what does she eat?”

“Mostly milk,” Angel said, poking at his own chest. “She’s already got teeth, but can’t chew yet. Not that I want her on solids just yet, in case she goes on a ravenous rampage.”

Valentino arched a brow. “...ravenous rampage?”

“Don’t forget who her father is, Val.” Behind Angel, Alastor gave his patented full-mouth smile. “I’ve seen Al after a few days without fresh meat. It ain’t pretty.” He sipped his iced coffee, his own smile going softer. “We just want her to be a normal baby for now. Save the sinnin’ for later.”

“MUCH later,” Alastor said. “She’s a Hellborn, but that’s no reason why she has to get into Hell culture too soon.” He noticed Husk and Valentino staring at him oddly. “What? Just because it’s best for ME doesn’t mean it’ll be best for HER.”

Valentino snorted, but didn’t comment further, his smile softening as he looked down at Fawn, who was settling down in his hold and making soft cooing breathing sounds. The others watched in reverence of her quiet dozing before Valentino spoke again.

“I want to be godfather.”

“The hell you will!” Husk snapped. “I’ve already claimed it!”

“YOU don’t claim something like that, pussycat,” Valentino replied with a huff. “That goes to the parents.”

“Yeah, and Al practically gave it to me already!”

“I don’t see it in writing, it ain’t valid.”

Angel stepped in, holding hands up between the two. “Okay, CHILDREN, let’s just chill.” He gently took Fawn away from Valentino, who seemed not so eager to hand her back. “A kid can have two godfathers, just like how me and Al already set up two godmothers.” He smiled at Charlie and Vaggie, who were looking like they were trying not to laugh through that entire confrontation.

“...something I believe we should have mentioned earlier,” Alastor muttered, a brief flush of embarrassment dusting his cheeks before he collected himself. “We’ve been busy thus far, making final arrangements.”

“Speaking of,” Valentino said, turning to Angel. “About work?”

“Detailed in the email I sent earlier,” Angel said, deftly pulling his shirt collar from Fawn’s tugging before pulling it open to let her feed. “No real changes to it. As soon as I’ve got a stash of milk going, I’ll start working half-shifts until she’s formula-fed.”

“And while Angel is at work, I’m parenting,” Alastor chimed in. “Giving her a comfortable feel for eldritch energy. It might help her shapeshifting abilities form sooner than later.”

“Sundays off for us both to spend time with her,” Angel finished. “Marge’s books said she’ll develop better with us both.”

Valentino nodded, reaching down to pick up the bags he put down earlier. “Sounds like a plan,” he replied. “Anyway, here’s some stuff I saw in the Pride District, hope the kid likes silk, it’s all they had.” He re-fluffed his collar from where Fawn had nestled in before taking his leave. “I’ll see you next week then.”

“See ya, Val,” Angel said, using two spare hands to rummage through, picking out silk sheet pieces that could function as baby nesting, as well as a tiny little cape they could fashion as some baby clothes. “Oof, tempted to up my schedule for three-quarter shifts for this, these are the good shit!”

Husk rolled his eyes. “If he’s ‘godfather’, it should be given freely,” he muttered, taking out his phone to non-too-subtly begin shopping for new things for Fawn as well. “Try to take godfather out from under me, louse-moth motherfucker…”

“For goodness sake, Husker, I already promised you godfatherhood, don’t be persnickety.”

“...Al, I will literally pay you to not use the word ‘persnickety’ again.”

“Use that money for Fawn’s college fund.”

“Hell doesn’t even HAVE college!”

"College IS Hell," Vaggie put in sagely. "So I'm pretty sure the Wrath Circuit has it."

"Pride, actually," Charlie chimed in. "At least my private school was there..."

"Fuckin' Circles, this kid is screwed," Husk groaned, his head hitting the bar.


	13. Bedtimes and Sweet Dreams for the Future

The nights that Alastor had Fawn while Angel Dust worked were some of the most peaceful he could ever remember having, alive life included.

Momentary practice while Angel took naps here and there was one thing, but taking primary care of their daughter was a different story. Alastor hadn't been tasked with keeping something alive since he was a child in charge of the chicks to make sure foxes and hawks wouldn't steal them, but this wasn't a baby chick. This was a child. HIS child. Unspeakably more valuable and completely irreplaceable. 

That's what made his caretaking more nerve-wracking in the beginning, yet after the initial panic at every possible danger around the corner passed, he found it the easiest thing to do. Fawn rarely cried, her deer instincts keeping her quiet unless she was truly distressed; which that alone was rarely the case considering she was always being tended to by either parent at any given moment. Her cues for being hungry or bored or tired were easy to pick up on and remedy.

Angel Dust made sure he had plenty of his milk put aside for when Alastor tended to Fawn until she began weaning onto solids. She was close to the time of possibly needing a milk-and-blood mix to get her used to it before solids, but both Angel and Alastor decided to hold off until she was at least a year old for that to happen.

That day was coming up soon, and Alastor found himself unable to really wait for it.

Fawn was walking on her spindly legs already, though with the unease that came from the human origin of her parents. Her four arms were already showing impressive coordination, all four able to do different things simultaneously, such as reach for something when her deer-spider feet managed to climb four feet off the floor and scare the daylights out of Angel. Even Alastor's weak joking quip about her 'climbing before she could run' did little to ease the near-heart attack she gave them, and now whenever she had to be out of sight for any amount of time, Alastor had the first two feet of the walls greased down.

They were able to appreciate the future scares that particular talent would have for others later, but they agreed to work on her ground coordination first.

Which was the foundation of his bonding with Fawn.

When Alastor bid Angel farewell, he would spend an hour or so downstairs to keep up with Fawn's socialization with the others before heading up to his room and locking down his hallway. Safety and security was a must, but it was also the privacy of just simply not wanting to be seen. Once secure, he would go through another door into his bayou.

Even Angel Dust hadn't been in the bayou much, respecting the fact that it was Alastor's safe and quiet space, but Alastor brought Fawn into it every time he had caretaking. Once he set her down on the damp swampy ground, he would stay close, letting her know it was still him as he shifted his form from humanoid to cervine.

His own demon form was one he very rarely took. Aside from it being inconvenient outside of a hunt, he once found it to be hideous and impossible to play his games and work his deals, and was grateful to pieces that he was able to have a default humanoid form to work with. He wouldn't call it hideous anymore; instead he found it necessary and useful. 

With a huge emaciated body covered with red fur, black hooves and antlers, and a deer head with an enlarged jaw stripped of flesh to show off sharp teeth, he made too intimidating a sight for everyday sight, but in it, he felt that much closer to Fawn. Standing still as her torso arms felt out her Papa’s deer limbs that resembled hers, the fur that was courser than her own -she inherited Angel’s soft fur, thank goodness- and even his deer skulled face when he leaned down to nuzzle at her, he felt that even if she did decide on a humanoid form later, this would let her know that she was safe and normal in the one she was born with.

And this form was also practical in teaching her to be stable on her own legs. Watch as Papa does, he would tell her, getting her used to walking, prancing, even jumping without falling. He showed her how to hide from any danger she might be in, or how to be out of sight until she needed to pounce. 

Oh, how much fun she seemed to have, hiding -badly, but it was the thought that counted- while he pretended not to see, and how she’d jump out of her hiding place to clutch at one of his legs with her arms, her hidden mouth gnawing playfully. She already had an added advantage, her legs functioning more like Angel’s in their power of him being a jumping spider. 

She would be an apex predator one day, he knew.

After ‘lessons’ that would be the foundation of hunts when she was older, Alastor found the most useful function of his deer form was curling around Fawn when she tired out. He laid out comfortably, feeling her cuddle up to his side, and he lowered his head down to the ground so her arms could curl around it and hold onto it while she slept, knowing she was safe and sound.

Angel was vaguely aware that Alastor was giving Fawn her ‘deer lessons’ as he referred to them; not in front of Alastor, Circles no...he didn’t want Alastor to get embarrassed or something and stop them. He was happy Alastor was adjusting to fatherhood, spending time with Fawn. If he were to ever be the reason that would stop…

It was such a stupid thought when he REALLY sat to think about it. Alastor wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t put the bonding to an end just because Angel knew about it and found it cute.

Alastor wouldn’t do that. It wasn’t like he was resentful of fatherhood. It wasn’t like his work came first before anything, including family. It wasn’t like Fawn had older siblings that Alastor absolutely preferred over the one that was ‘different’.

It wasn’t like Angel would sometimes beg off work early -with Val’s exasperated understanding- to sneak back to the Hotel and watch Alastor, just...making sure. 

Just making sure Fawn was happy. 

And for the longest time, it didn’t matter how many times Angel would be the perfect silent watcher, seeing Alastor be the perfect father to the perfect daughter. One tiny thought would bring back memories that sent him back to the Hotel with the feeling of being suffocated in them.

And it didn’t get much better when Angel had Fawn for the evenings Alastor was at work. Far too much energy went into convincing himself that Alastor would be back later. Listen to the radio, see? He’s at work, not halfway across the endless expanse of Hell getting away from something he didn’t want to be a part of. 

He didn’t want to be seen upset or worried. He would smile and wish Al a good night at work. Joke about not making TOO much of a mess. Keep the radio on and watch Fawn as she heard her Papa’s voice come from it, like he was there with them all the time.

All while praying Al had fun at work as usual. Resisting the instinctive urge to think of at least five escape routes in case a father came home angry. Talking to Fawn and singing to her, all encouragement and positivity like his mother had always done for him.

“You know you’re perfect, right?” he told Fawn, seeing the tiny pinpricks of eyes from that black void under her torso staring out at him attentively. “No matter what you look like...no matter if you’ll be an awesome killer like your parents or a pacifist like Auntie Charlie...no matter who you love...you’re perfect, y’hear me?” 

He couldn’t quite curl around like her like a deer could, but he had two extra limbs and soft fur to comfort her while she dozed off, his tears going unseen and unheard except the radio kept next to the bed.

The radio with the synonymous demon on the other end, hearing every word when he tuned in to check on his family between sets, feeling the very personal fears behind every word. Fears he couldn’t assuage without breaking the confidence of privacy that was due to the spider.

The best Alastor could do was prove that he was here to stay, that Fawn and Angel were safe with him for the long haul. 

It might be too on the nose, but he would end up playing old soft loving music whenever Angel was having his doubtful nights. 

Between the two of them, they both thought come morning watching Fawn in her sleep, she would have the best life possible. They’d make damn sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it comes to it, I might put up snippets of childhood in the future in another story. XD It's a hard 'maybe' tho. Either way, hope you all enjoyed it!


End file.
